


The Saddest Reapers

by OneLetteredWonder



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1p2p - Freeform, Grim Reapers, Multi, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLetteredWonder/pseuds/OneLetteredWonder
Summary: The dead can only do so much, that is what the reapers are for. They help the souls move on and pass so they can begin the process of a new life. Existing alone for so long takes it's toll, and loneliness looms over the strongest of them all. There is love to be found yet, it just needs to find the reaper it belongs to. 1p x 2p.





	1. Something Better

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this comic](http://comic.manga-audition.com/entries/thirty-and-a-half-minutes-by-snippy-mj/#1).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is no fun without another to spend it with.

The first thing Allen sees is blackness. It swirls around him, moving across his skin and pushing him along. He is not afraid of it. It's comforting, caressing, like it knows parts of him that he doesn't. He blinks hard into the vast mass, catching sight of a faint glow in the distance. He tilts his head to the side, feeling a pull towards it. Something about this is calling to him, like it needs him for some reason or another. He takes a step forward and the blackness shifts around him, surging him forward and making him dizzy. He takes a deep breath in only to have it catch inside as he looks down.

At his feet is a person, dark skinned with red splattered across their chest. There are open holes littering their body with more blood slowly oozing from it. Allen covers his mouth and kneels down next to them, eyes wide in panic. He can feel them inside, he can feel their life, and he can feel it leaving. The person grimaces, shaking slightly. Allen can feel tears peeking from the corners of his eyes. The person is in pain.

He reaches out a hand tentatively, stopping just short of their face. With a sniff, he touches their cheek gently. Simultaneously, they both release a sigh. Allen places his other hand on their other cheek, something inside of him stealing this person's pain, removing it from them and making them lighter. The person sighs once more, and goes limp against him.

Allen jerks back scared. Even though he can feel it, that he has done something right, it scares him. His teeth chatter together as a bright mist swirls in front of the body. The mist collects and shifts, and takes shape into the exact form it just left. The spirit body looks down at him skeptically and Allen stares right back frightened. Suddenly the person goes wide eyed and bows low. They say something in a language that resonates within Allen. He stands quickly and bows his head back, his tears now drying. The person stands.

As if in a trance, they walk away from him. Allen follows not knowing what else to do. Then he feels it. The pain, the suffering, the feeling that something is ending. He follows the mist person to a new body on the ground. Allen watches as they place a hand to their head, and a pained look on their face. Allen jerks when they send him a pleading look, begging in that same language. Once more, Allen can feel something that he needs to do.

He kneels down, and places both of his hands on the new body, less hesitant than before. The new person, relaxes into his hold ceasing their whimpers from before. He sniffs with fresh tears wanting to spill out of him. When the new one becomes limp, he releases them, watching more clearly for the mist that collects above their body, making a new form. The two spirit bodies smile at each other, then embrace quickly. Allen blinks up at them when they starts to lose shape. They twist together, taking the shape of a new thing. The new forms are small and delicate, they flutter around Allen's head, carelessly and without need.

Allen stands up, watching as the two new creatures fly this way and that, he nearly smiles at them. He doesn't get the chance to. He turns around and stumbles back in shock. The land around him is tarnished with blood. He can see it too, what it used to look like, open and green. Being able to tell what the land used to be makes seeing the pained people scattered about so much worse. Allen doesn't know what calls him to do it, but he runs. His first step sends him shifting to the first person even though they were far away from him before. He doesn't care.

He doesn't know how many people he touches, he doesn't know how many he holds until they smile peacefully and go limp in his arms. He can feel it though, somewhere deep inside of him that it's the right thing to do. He can feel that it's not wrong, removing these people of their pain.

The last person he holds is a smaller one than the others, a long haired one, covered in furs. He winces when he sees their eyes are open and white. Allen holds them closer than the others, petting their hair until they relax and close their eyes. Their spirit floats up out of their body already in the winged form to join the others. Allen looks up into the sky, his eyes blurry as he spies all the small creatures flying in the air above them. He swallows. He knows something is supposed to happened but he doesn't know what.

He hears the snap of a branch and jerks around to see a new figure above him. He scrambles away from them instantly afraid. They are taller than him, covered in black furs over their dark skin. On their face is a large skull of a beast not entirely human. Allen shakes in his spot. He can feel their energy, something ancient and powerful. He can feel that power fading. He flinches when the being raises their arms to take off the skull.

A woman looks down at him, somewhat confused. Allen looks down at her stare. He feels like he's been caught doing something that he shouldn't have been doing. She speaks to him, in the same language of the people around him. He snaps his head up to stare back at her. Then she smiles warmly and Allen cries.

He runs straight into her arms when she kneels down. He buries his head into her chest, crying loudly and painfully. All the small creatures around him flutter down, dancing around him and he can hear them whispering kind and calming words. He knows deep down what he did for them is good, but it still hurts so much.

The woman runs a hand through his hair and pulls back. He rubs at his face, trying to remove the evidence. She ruffles with her fur robes and pulls out an object, a wooden stick with a sharp flat metal blade at the end. She holds it out to him and Allen shakes his head. He doesn't know what it is but he can sense the power that goes with it and he doesn't want it. The woman coos to him, gently and forcefully at the same time. She spins him around and pulls him close, holding the object out in front.

Carefully, Allen puts his hands over hers where they hold the object and together she moves it against the open air. A ripple happens like pebbles thrown into water and then it rips open. Allen inhales sharply, seeing the mass of purple shine on the other side. The small spirit creatures flutter happily, slipping into the rip and disappearing. One of the creatures flies in front of Allen's face, landing on his nose, then slipping into the tear. It closes up seamlessly, with no sound and no change.

Allen nearly lets go of the wooden object but the woman lets go first, letting him hold the full weight of it in his hands. He wants to drop it, but he can't, he can't let go of it. He faces her with tears in his eyes. She smiles and wipes them away. He watches wordlessly as she stands, speaking to him in words that will remain inside of him forever. She removes her black fur cloak in one swoop and drops it on his tiny shoulders. With a small laugh, she turns into a swirl of mist, and into one of the fluttering creatures. Allen calls to her, asking her to wait, but somewhere in his voice the words are lost.

The soul doesn't wait, and he can't follow. It flies off and Allen is left to hide his face in the furs. Many other people come around, but none of them can see him. He tries to get their attention once or twice but it feels wrong to interact with them. He can sense their life and he knows it's not for him. So he leaves that area, walking in a random direction. He takes a step and the world shifts around him. He stands in a tent now, lined with brown furs and a person on the ground, surrounded by others. Some of them are crying, but the one on the ground laughs.

Allen blinks down at him and senses his energy leaving. He slips past the others, and places a hand on their head gently. It takes just a second for them to let go and stop moving. The others cry out but Allen leaves the tent to not hear them. He walks away when another small floating creature stops him in his tracks, floating around his head happily. Allen gulps, gripping the object the woman gave him tightly. He raises it up, and drags it across the air in front of him. Again it rips open and the spirit slips through.

Allen looks down at his hands. The tool the woman gave him isn't heavy, and the blade more square than anything. He holds it tight to his chest. He senses the purpose of the tool, and knows it's his job to follow through. He pulls the furs around him closer, shifting them underneath his hands to fit him better. He pulls a fur over his head and walks on, waiting for his steps to take him somewhere else.

* * *

She doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know what is happening. Is she still a she? She can't tell, but she can remember. She remembers the sound of her mother singing, and she remembers her brother teasing her, and she remembers someone holding her tight before she felt calm. She could see. She could see her parents, what they looked like, and she could see the mass of purple stars surrounding her as her parents held her hands and guided her along the path her soul must now take towards being a new.

* * *

Allen could feel it in his bones. He hates these people. In the years since he first donned the black furs, Allen has grown. He felt taller and he felt stronger. He also felt anger. He watches from the top of a building with his legs dangling off the edge as the people hurt each other. They haven't done anything, and yet they are being treated like property and Allen hates it. He twitches when he feels the possibility arise. He can sense the chance of death coming and he narrows his eyes at the person targeted. He grips his tomahawk tight, feeling the darkness in him from which he was conceived.

The man with the whip stumbles back after his throw, falling down and on his back the exact moment the cart stops with the horse just recently startled. The beast kicks up and Allen has to look away from what he did. He jumps down from the building after most of the people have been ushered away, he places a hand on the person's arm. Not wasting anytime when the small butterfly spirit springs forth to rip a hole and usher it through. He flips his fur hood over his head and walks on.

He spent time testing the change of chance. Sometimes, if he tries really hard, he can allow someone to live for a few minutes longer than normal. He did that for a small boy years ago, who fell out of a tree and wanted to apologize to his mother before passing. He allowed him to say his goodbye before letting go.

He takes a step and finds himself in the uppermost room in a big house. He follows the fleeting life to the bedside of a woman, her hand held tight in man who looks worse for wear. Allen sighs and watches them for a moment, leaning casually up against the doorway. They whisper softly to each other in a language Allen has since learned. He gives her a few more minutes, as many as his strength can allow, before stepping forward to help her move on.

When her soul appears, and Allen tries to rip the air, it doesn't work no matter how many times he tries. He sighs and watches as the butterfly rests on the man's shoulder unmoving. He smiles gently before walking away and finding himself someplace new.

It takes a year, but he finally feels the man's soul fading. He finds him laying in bed alone, with the butterfly fluttering about hazardously.

"Shhh it's going to be okay," He says softly. The butterfly stops momentarily, shifting form back into the woman of before. He smiles gently at her.

"Just hold his hand, he'll be along shortly," He says and she nods her head doing as she's told. She holds his hand as best she can, saying sweet things to the man as he slowly loses his life. Allen places a hand on his head and the spirit comes out a man. The two hug and talk gently with happy tears. Allen smiles at them when they turn to him.

"Thank you," The man says, and Allen isn't sure why but he nods anyway. He rips the hole and the two souls flutter through.

* * *

Allen finds himself in a forest in winter time. It's cold and he pulls his furs closer. They have changed over the years to his liking, hugging his body more and providing more warmth. He has gained a pair of furs for his feet to keep them warm in the slight amount of temperatures he can feel. He climbs a tree to see up higher, searching for the person whose life he can feel shortening to the end. He spies the man far off, making the finishing touches to his cabin.

He waits, grimacing when he realizes what is to happen. When the bear shows up he looks away, not wanting to see the agony that the man has. Only when the bear is gone does he drop from the tree to go closer. He grips his tomahawk tighter, now longer and sharper because he wished it to be. He places a hand to the man gently, and when nothing happens he backs away.

"Oh," A voice says. Allen snaps his head up to a new being, someone who is looking at him just as strangely. Allen stands as tall as he can, compared to the size of the other in front of him. They rub the back of their head awkwardly, holding a similar tool in their hands, though longer than Allen's.

"Where they, one of yours?" They asks gruffly. Allen stares for a moment longer before sighing and dropping to sit down next to the human, running his hand through their hair. He cannot take their soul, but he can feel them being soothed by his action.

"Yeah, Viktor," Allen recites the name. The other reaper nods his head and takes a seat by Allen in the snow, dark furs covering his body too.

"My territory though," They murmur. Allen sighs. He knew something about this. He could sit and sense out the boundaries of the lands that he had life and death jurisdiction over. He knew that when one of his people crossed into other lands, they became that reapers. This is the first time it's happened though.

"I'm Allen," He says, trying to give them a smile, but it doesn't work as well as he wants it to. They try to smile back even though it comes as more of a grimace. The reach out their hand to pet the human, letting their soul flitter up in the shape of a small bird. Allen watches them cut the air the same way he does and the soul fly through.

"Your tool looks familiar," Allen says suddenly before they can disappear. The other blinks down at him and shifts uncomfortably. They hold out their tool, for Allen to see, and it shifts to a smaller version.

"She gave it to me," He says quietly. Allen stiffens. Is this where she went? He holds out his own tool, it shifting to the small form he had when first given to him.

"Me too," He says, now being able to smile a little easier. The other compares their tools, noting the similar build when Allen feels the tug. He needs to go, someone else is dying.

"I'm Matt," The tall person says. Allen waves bye to him before stepping away, letting the darkness once more shift him to a new place.

* * *

Amelia puts her hands on her hips, scowling down at the boy who called her ugly. Her eyes well up in little tears and she stomps off making the hem of her dress muddy. Her mother will be cross but she wants to be away from that boy and his unkind words. She goes against rules and climbs a tree, trying to hide even more so from everyone.

"Hey!" She squeaks and holds tight to branch in front of her, trying her best to glare down at the new person. A new boy, taller than the others is looking up at her, holding a small flower in his hand.

"I don't think you're ugly." He says loudly for her to hear. She pouts and wipes at her face.

"I don't think I'm ugly either," She shouts back making the boy laugh. He holds the flower up higher.

"I think you're strong," He says. She blinks, taking in the bright violet of his eyes. Carefully she climbs down, nearly falling when she gets close to the bottom, but the boy helps her steady herself. He hands out the flower and she takes it.

"My name is Van," He does a small bow for politeness and she giggles, grabbing the edge of her dress for a curtsey.

"I'm Amelia," She smiles up at him and he holds out his arm. She links hers with him and lets him guide her back towards their town.

* * *

Allen chews on an apple for no reason. He doesn't particularly need to eat, but it's something to do when he has nowhere else to be right away. He swings his leg back and forth from his perch in a tree, waiting for a new tug to take him to a new soul ready to be taken into the space. He has seen the world progress, has seen the buildings and the new inventions sprouting up. It's all very interesting for him to see.

His old fur garb has changed to fit him. He wears shorts now, a thin shirt, and a black coat with the inside made of the furs of the reaper before him. He feels comfortable in the outfit, changing it with the times he feels natural. His scythe has grown from it's tomahawk state. The wooden handle is longer, and the blade more curved and sharper. He swings the tool from his foot as he waits.

He drops his apple when he feels a tug. He shifts from his spot in the tree, falling over to drop to a new area. He steadies himself quickly and walks on through the hallways of the medical building.

* * *

Amelia screams. She can feel her body being ripped apart. She grips the edge of the bed tight as she can yelling out for the nurses to hear. She knew from the moment the nurses told her she might be pregnant that should wouldn't survive the birth. He body began to become frail over the course of being pregnant and she knew it. It didn't stop her from pretending everything was okay for Van. She cheered him on and encouraged him when he had to go place nice with the other workers. She cooked and cleaned and played off her dropping dishes on her clumsiness with a smile.

Her body wouldn't last and she could feel it. But it hurts. She doesn't want to die yet. The baby hasn't come out. She can't hear it crying. She wants to live. She needs to give Van a reason to stay strong. She frantically tries to find air to keep going.

* * *

Allen hears the screaming first. He raises an eyebrow to the man sitting outside the room with his head in his hands as a doctor explains that his wife's body can't handle the pressure. He rounds into the room to see a young woman in the bed, crying and barely breathing. The nurses seem to have given up and Allen can now feel more than one life fading. He gulps. The baby will not survive. He grips his scythe tight.

It takes effort, some he has never used before, but the woman is now breathing easily and screaming out loudly. He stumbles back and watches as the nurses are now working overtime, telling her to breathe and to move this way and that. It takes a few more minutes, but a new cry, full of life that Allen can feel to enter the room. He smiles as best as he can. The man from outside bursts in to hold the woman's hand as she holds the baby tight. She smiles brightly and her blue eyes start to die. Allen takes a deep breath and touches her arm gently once she lays her head down against the pillow.

He walks away when the sad sounds of the husband begin to echo out. He did what he could. He'll wait for the soul outside. He walks through the hall when a bright shape appears in front of his eyes. The butterfly soul caught up to him. It lands on his nose and then takes the form of the young woman on the bed. Allen finds himself caught off guard by the brightness her eyes still hold in spirit form.

"Thank you," She manages to say, though there are tears in her eyes. Allen smiles at the ground.

"I couldn't just let that happen," He admits. She smiles brightly at laughs just a little. Allen grips his scythe and tries to cut the air but it snags. He tries again but nothing happens.

"You still have attachments here," He says plainly. She nods her head, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. She turns to face the hospital room.

"I can't just leave them," She says. Allen nods his head. He understand. It's not unusual for soul to want to wait for another.

"I'll see you later then," Allen bows a little and begins to walk away when she grabs his arm gently.

"Wait, please." Allen glances over his shoulder at her. She lets go of him suddenly and plays with the edge of her blouse.

"Do I know you?" She asks causing Allen to raise an eyebrow at her. He knew some could have lasting memories, but he doubts it's him, so he shakes his head and she pouts.

"Aren't you going to stay?" She asks instead. Allen again shakes his head.

"I have other places to be," He tells her. It's quiet for a moment between them as she fiddles with her fingers. Allen grips his scythe tight, feeling a small tug to a new place.

"Will you come and visit at least?" Allen isn't sure what he's more caught off guard by, the question or the way she looks at him. He feels another tug, stronger, and he nods his head in haste before slipping away to a new place.

* * *

Allen arrives just in time to stop the young boy from stepping right on a crack of thin ice that would have made him fall right to a frozen death. He hangs from the tree with a smile on his face.

"Michael you idiot!" Another boy yells out at him for carelessly walking on the ice in the first place. Allen snorts at the action. The conversation reminds him vaguely of Matt, his regional partner. The last time he saw him was over another death, this time of a couple traveling. Matt seemed a little happy to see him.

"It's you!" A voice yells right in Allen's ear making him let go of his branch and fall to the ground. It doesn't hurt but he groans in pain anyway. He glares up right into a pair of bright blue eyes. He blinks up at her, Amelia, he thinks her name to be. She giggles and holds out a hand for him to take.

"You said you'd come visit me, did you forget?" She teases and he rolls his eyes. He doesn't care to admit he had no idea where to find her even if he wanted to. He didn't particularly care to visit, he didn't need this kind of interaction.

"Come on," She grabs his hand and pulls. "It's time for dinner," She winks at him and he follows along dumbly. A man appears from atop the hill and shouts to the boys to come get food, earning him a chorus of happy yells. It takes Allen a moment to recognize him.

"He's doing so well," Amelia tells him once all the boys are inside the small hut. They lean against a counter as they living eat and make jokes to each other. Allen watches as she smiles fondly at the small family in front of her. He jerks when she smiles up at him suddenly.

"Do you have family?" Allen grits his teeth at the question. He shakes his head.

"The closest I have to family is another reaper up north." He shrugs his shoulders. With a bit of teasing and pestering, Allen tells her about Matt and how they first met, which then leads to a small story about how Allen first knew what he was meant to do.

"I'm sorry," Amelia says sadly. Allen waves off her comment but she grabs his hand and holds it close to her. Allen blinks down at her, feeling his cheeks heat up in a new way.

"You shouldn't have had to be left alone like that," She tells him forcefully. Allen laughs as naturally as he can, letting her hold his hand for the night until he feels a new tug pulling him away from her. He says his goodbyes and she makes him promise once more to come see her.

* * *

"Oh," Allen turns to the voice, trying to ignore the jolt of happiness he feels at seeing Amelia there. She smiles gently at him coming closer. He tries to remain calm as she looks over the edge of a cliff a young girl has just been thrown over.

"You okay?" She asks. He shakes his head honestly. This isn't the first time a death has happened. The people thought them witches, Allen knows better. He glares at the ground.

"Some people don't deserve to die," He says bitterly. He kicks a rock over the edge in anger. Suddenly arms are around him. He sputters a little as Amelia clings to him.

"It's okay," She reassures him. He releases a huff and wraps a hand around her to half hug back.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" She asks.

"No," he answers immediately. Instead of speaking, Amelia just keeps holding him, giving him some sort of warmth he hasn't felt in years. He lets her hold him, wondering just how long it will last.

* * *

"Eavesdropping?" Allen smirks down at Amelia. She squeaks and then glares up at him. She stomps her foot in a dignified manner as he drops down next to her with his scythe over his shoulder.

"Just.. Checking." She tries to reason but Allen rolls his eyes and nudges her playfully, causing her burst out into a fit of giggles. She grabs his hand and pulls him away from the spot where her son is trying his best to flirt with a girl from town.

"Where have you been?" She hisses at him. Allen snorts at her anger. He visited her just a little while ago.

"It's been a full year mister," She growls. That gets Allen to stop laughing. His sense of time is warped. Being conscious and having been to so many places changed his perspective of time.

"I didn't realize you missed me that much," He winks at her and she scoffs, swatting at him lightly. They take a seat on the grass and she cuddles up next to him. He does his best not to fidget. He knows he's got a stupid little crush on her, and he does his best to not let it affect him. She's married in a way.

"How does one take souls?" She asks. He sighs and leans back a little, settling into his spot as she watches him talk about the simple process.

"I'd like to see it." Allen stops cold at that.

"No, it's difficult to see," He tells her. She pouts and crosses her arms.

"I can handle it," She insists. Allen stares at her. Her face scrunches up looking serious for once. He sighs and stands, holding out a hand to her. She takes it smugly but he pulls her close.

"Do not try to convince me to do otherwise. Understand?" He tries to sound threatening but it's hard when he's that close to her bright eyes. She nods her head and he sighs again. It doesn't take long for a tug to come to him. He steps out with her hand in his and lets the darkness move them both.

He's almost relieved when it's not an unfair death. The man Allen can feel about to pass is, for lack of better wording, disgusting. Allen can feel him, about to be mobbed by an angry group of people.

"What is going on?" Amelia breathes out to him once the mob comes in view. Allen has them sitting on the steps of the house, waiting. Amelia is looking around, gripping tight to his arm. When the man comes outside, he tries to joke it off but the people are unwavering, they chase him down easily enough and Allen stands to follow them lazily.

"Are they killing him?" She squeaks out and Allen nods wordlessly. She gasps and rushes forward, trying to push through the people, yelling for them to stop. Allen can feel his heart in his throat. It takes some finagling, but he manages to pull her away from the crowd as they string up a rope. He holds her close as she screams for them to stop, hiding her face in his chest as the mob does it's job.

Once most of them are gone, Allen leaves Amelia to run a hand across the man's leg, letting the soul come out. He rips a hole and the soul goes quietly. Once the rip is sealed he turns back to her.

"Why didn't you stop them?" She stares up at him. He looks down.

"I can't stop death." He says. She stalks up to him, with tears in her eyes.

"But you could have changed something couldn't you? Why did you let that happen?" She demands. He can feel the bubble of anger in him. He glares half heartedly at her.

"He deserved it," He tells her and she gasps, now glaring back.

"No one deserves that!" She gestures to the body still hanging from the tree. Allen growls and grabs her hand, marching over to the body and placing her hand on it, letting the body's last memories flood into her, all the pain he caused others and the last death of his son Allen had taken just a few months before. She jerks back and cries.

"That's no reason," She says softly and Allen walks away.

"This is my job," He spits out and disappears before she can say another word.

* * *

Allen runs through the tarnished land, trying to skew as many chances of life as he can. He can feel another reaper on the field, maybe two he's not sure, but he can feel the death and he can feel life. He can feel it all twisting around him. He jumps a lump on the burnt grass to another area of the battleground. He brushes his hand against a few people laying down, letting their souls lift up to the sky, and even touching a few others, to give them a moments peace before their own reapers come by to finish the job.

Allen pauses and spins wildly in a circle. He can feel him, he can feel _her_ son on the field. He closes his eyes and searches, finding him pressed up against a tree and under fire. He jumps to that area, skewing his chances of living as he dodges to a safer hiding spot. He deflects a bullet entirely with the edge of his scythe so it doesn't hit him.

When the battle ends, and the forces retreat, he keeps close to the young man. He doesn't know why he does it. He hasn't talked to Amelia in years. Years that feel a lot longer than all the others for some reason. He walks behind the boy, now man. He only stops when he spots someone far off in the field, crying loudly.

He walks that way, coming closer to them. They are cradling a body to them, none of the body's blood getting on their outfit even though it is partially white.

"Hey," Allen says quietly. The person sniffs and looks up at him with wide eyes. They cringe and start crying again, looking down to the body in their arms. Allen kneels down next to the other reaper.

"They are so young," They say. They try to wipe away their tears with their white sleeve. Allen grits his teeth and places a hand on the boys head, letting their soul float up in a butterfly. He quickly cuts the air to let the soul pass on. The reaper smiles at him as gratefully as he can with tears in his eyes.

"I'm Oliver," He says. Allen shakes his hand when presented to him.

"Allen," He tells them. Oliver smiles again and goes back to craddling the body tightly, the overwhelming feel of death everywhere. It's taking it's toll. Allen can feel the loss inside him. Not many survived. He spies Matt farther off and goes to him. They walk quietly for a moment before talking in hushed tones of how they are. It doesn't take long after that for Matt to take a step and disappear without his own doing. Allen hangs his head, feeling lonelier than he has in a long time.

"Allen?" His chest lurches at the call of his name. He spins to see Amelia standing there with her hands to her chest and the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Before he can say anything she rushes forward and buries her head in his chest. He drops his scythe to the ground and holds her back. She presses tight to him and he feels the force of how much he's missed her.

"Thank you," she whimpers against him. He doesn't know why she says that but he doesn't say anything back, just clings to her more. It takes a moment, but they finally pull apart with their arms still loosely wrapped around each other.

"I don't know what you did, but I know you did something," She says to him. He looks away a little sheepishly. He freezes entirely when she kisses his cheek.

"Thank you for letting him live," She whispers in his ear. She lets go and walks away from him, leaving him to watch after her. He runs a hand through his hair, bending down to pick up his scythe. He keeps his distance for the rest of the war, only tempting when he can to keep her son alive for as long as he can.

* * *

"Come on," Allen is heaved up. He wiggles against the hold on his arm until he realizes who it is.

"What are you doing?" He can't help the excitement in his voice. She flashes him a quick smile and he smirks back to her. She pulls him onto the middle of the floor, the war being over and everyone rejoicing means parties. She pulls him close and Allen can feel his heart beating. With a snicker he leads her around the floor, smiling more than he has in years of being.

At the end of the dance Allen feels at ease with the world. Amelia smiles up at him sweetly, giggling into her hand at every silly little thing he says to her. He grimaces when he feels the tug to go do his job. He moves to leave but his hand is caught. He turns around to see Amelia close to him. She places a kiss on his lips, small and chaste before pushing him away from her, making him jump to a new place.

He blinks wildly at nothing in particular, his heart soaring in happiness. He has to try and dull the feeling as he takes care of the soul, but his smile comes right back. His feelings for Amelia have grown entirely. To know she feels somewhat the same makes him happier than anything. And also, more frightened than he's ever been.

* * *

The funeral is awkward. Allens stands far away from the people as they bury Amelia's husband in the ground. When Allen first felt him dying he panicked. When he passed, would Amelia? She told him to do it though, and he passed on with one quick hug to her.

"I'll be here until my son is gone," She reassured him. It worked, until Allen remembered she would leave. She can't stay with him. He watches her now, petting her son's hair even though he can't feel it. Allen doesn't like the feeling, knowing she'll be gone one day. It makes him want to push her away, but he can't. He doesn't want to be without her now. She's been constant, an addition to his life he would never want to lose.

The people start to walk away and she goes back to him. Allen pushes off the tree and accepts her hug easily, wrapping his arms around her.

"I thought it would hurt more," She mutters into his chest. Allen wipes away one of her tears.

"I think losing you will hurt more," She admits lifting her head to face him. Allen stops, swallowng down his fear. He places his forehead to hers.

"I'll always be here," He says. She sniffles, and he can tell she doesn't believe him. He wouldn't either.

"I think I may have fallen in love with you," She whispers and Allen begins to cry. Easy tears slip past his defenses and she brushes them away with gentle kisses.

"I don't want to lose you," he grits his teeth tightly. He can already feel the pain of her going. She holds his face tight and makes him face her. She smiles at him before pulling him closer to kiss him quickly.

"I'll be yours," She says against his lips. Allen pulls her closer, kissing her again, wanting to feel the odd warmth she gives off forever.

* * *

Allen is shaking. He grips his scythe tight in his hands, staring down at the man dying on the bed in front of him. He snaps his head to face Amelia when she covers his hands with hers. She smiles at him, then faces the man on the bed. There's another soul around him, his wife in his later age. Allen wants to change it. He wants to make it stop. He doesn't want this to happen. The tug of death pulls him forward.

"It's okay," Amelia says to him though her voice cracks. Allen takes a glance back her. He places his hand on the man's head, letting the soul out. It forms the man, growing younger in age along with the other woman. They hug and laugh. Allen steps back when the man notices Amelia. It takes some explaining but he hugs her tight, and thanks her for looking over him for his life even when he never knew her.

Allen almost drops his scythe as he cuts open the air. Tears are coming down his face. The couple flutter through in butterfly form. Amelia smiles at him and he can feel her soul being pulled away. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him.

"I'll find you," She says.

"I swear I'll find you." Allen nods his head, kissing her once more. He can feel her slipping, crying out for her when she's forcefully pulled through the rift and it seals. Allen drops to his knees and screams. Being alone now makes him ache. He misses her already. He barely manages to move when the tug of death happens. He doesn't want to but he has to. Death can't wait, no matter how dead he feels inside.

* * *

Allen smiles to the little girl who looks up at him frightfully. He kneels down to her and holds out his hand, showing her a small yellow flower. She blinks her bright purple eyes up at him, taking the flower. He points towards a tree in the clearing where a spirit man is waiting, her father. She gasps and runs to him, giggling loudly when he twirls her in the air. They shift into butterflies and Allen splits the air for them.

He walks on, trying to keep himself together. It's been years since Amelia truly left him but the wound feels fresh no matter what he does. He tries to remember her in happy light, he knows that's what she would have wanted. He stops by her grave where they buried her years ago. With the edge of his scythe, he makes a tally mark on the gravestone. He doesn't want to dwell on the past, but he needs to keep himself sane.

* * *

"ALPHONSE!" He grimaces at the voice yelling his name. He glances up at his father glaring down at him before casting his blue eyes down.

"Oui papa?" He mutters out. He cringes as his father goes off on how he's not supposed to go around randomly going into people's houses. He decides not to interrupt that he only broke into the house when heard a cry for help. He scuffs his shoes, listening to his father scold him about the trying times and how anything could have happened to him. Where they live is not in the best place, and getting worse. His father chides him, saying how he could be dead.

His father grabs his arm and he winces just a little. He takes a glance back at the house, smiling and waving as best he can at the old woman in the house who waves back. He smiles brightly then. He knows he did good even if he won't get supper tonight.

* * *

"All I'm saying, is maybe it's not supposed to be eaten," Allen lays on his back on the grassy fields between his and Matt's territory. The other reaper groans in annoyance, tapping at the sap collectors with the back end of his axe shaped scythe. His old furs have long since been replaced with a long black cloak, the hood resting on his head. Allen sighs and reaches a hand up to the sky.

"How are you holding up?" Matt asks suddenly. Allen gulps, the wound almost splitting open again.

"I could be worse," he says. He tilts his head to see Matt leaning up against a tree and nodding his head. Allen smirks suddenly.

"I could be dead," He rolls when Matt throws his scythe at him, embedding the blade in the dirt.

"You little shit," Matt says to him, yanking the axe up with ease. Allen laughs quickly until the sadness settles in him again.

"I'm okay," he says softly. Matt looks down at him and sighs. He pats Allen on the shoulder once before disappearing in a small puff of grey ash. Their little talks don't last long, and are never very frequent, but Allen likes having them. It's a simple reminder that he's not entirely alone in world sometimes. He knows there are other reapers, but Matt has to be the closest one to him. He feels a tug and lets the darkness take him there.

* * *

He stands up straight, with his hands behind his back like instructed. The general walks in front of him, scrutinizing the soldiers for the battles ahead of them. Alphonse keeps his blue eyes staring straight ahead, not daring to look away to see the person next to him get a verbal beat down for not having his outfit properly put together. When given the 'at ease' signal, he's the last to let his body drop. He walks back to his housing, not bothering to be with the other men as they try to make light of the situation.

After his father passed away, Alphonse joined the ranks of Napoleon. The generals seemed to like him, saying he had a tough personality. He didn't ask for that. Growing up in the streets and running to not get caught made him a little more jaded than he would have liked. Sometimes he wish he could smile happily and get away with joking. Sometimes he wishes he could be held and cooed to sleep.

Instead he helps the others get their uniforms in check and shows them how to clean properly so they don't get yelled at anymore. It's the least he can do.

* * *

"I miss you sometimes," Allen tells the rock marking Amelia's name. He sits on top of it, knowing she probably wouldn't mind. Rarely will he allow himself to indulge in visiting her grave. It's a physical reminder that she's gone and it makes him hurt sometimes. It's gotten a little easier over the years.

"I wonder where you are right now," He laughs bitterly, playing with the same scythe in his hands. He hasn't changed his outfit in a while. Maybe he should do that soon.

"Do you ever think of me?" He asks aloud to know one. He tries to smile but some tears fight their way out. He knows well enough that wherever Amelia is, wherever that soul is, they don't know him. They won't know him until they die again. Then what? He rubs at his face, trying to not let the negative thoughts fully drag him down. She promised, and he's going to hold onto that. He takes his scythe and hops off the stone. He drags the blade across the top, making another tally for the records.

It's been fifty years since she left him.

* * *

Alphonse is shaken by the others around him. They are cheering and screaming and yelling happily at the announcement. The wars are finally over. He wants to smile and cheer right along with them but something is stopping him deep inside.

He knows it's not over. The wars may be over but the pain of it will last. There is so much to be rebuilt. He can feel it deep within him that there is more he can be doing. He leaves the place of celebration, looking for.. Something. He wanders the streets, stopping quickly when he hears a yell for help. He rushes to the area, pulling off a scuzy looking man off a woman. He punches their lights out and helps her up.

He helps her back home, part of him blatantly ignoring the sweet smiles she gives him. When he knows she's safe, he walks back to his temporary home. Tomorrow he will do more.

* * *

Allen glares down at the people beneath him. His hood casting a dark shadow across his face. He doesn't agree with this kind of public humiliation and he would see it stop if he could. The person being hurt is not worth the trouble and they will sooner die anyway. There is nothing he can do. He jumps from his perch and walks through the crowd, them unaware he is there. He steps up to the man and places a hand on his head, letting his misery end quicker than they would have allowed otherwise.

"Thank you," the man says once he is a soul and free from the angry crowd. Allen smiles at him and goes to make a rip in the air.

"Wait," he says. Allen glances at him and his sheepish smile.

"Can I see my daughter once more?" He pleads. Allen nods his head, ripping to the other side wouldn't have worked anyway. Allen guides the man to his daughter, feeling their soul inside. The man places a kiss to her forehead, and apologizes quietly.

"Thank you again," The man says, giving him a bright smile. Allen nods his head again and make the rip with ease. The butterfly slips through and once more, he's alone.

* * *

Alphonse looks out the window of the city, seeing it rebuilt to an extent and looking less like a war ground than he's ever seen it makes him happy. A small smile tugs at his lips. It's been too long since his home has known peace and he's happy he got to see it one last time. He takes a deep breath, wondering which one of the nights will be his last. He leans his head against the back of the chair, relaxing into the soft rock it gives him.

He's not sure when he dies, but he can feel the rush of his soul leaving his body. He blinks up at the person in front of him. They look unimpressed and shaggy though their uniform is tailored and black. Alphonse stares at them, feeling the disappointment inside of him swirling up, and not quite remembering why.

"You're not who I was expecting," He admits, his voice sounding stronger than it has. The person raises an eyebrow at him then rolls their eyes, taking out his sword.

"Wait!" Alphonse shouts as a rush of memories come flooding into him. He remembers climbing a tree, and meeting van, the night he proposed, their son.

"Can you help me?" He scrambles to find words as this person, this reaper, glares at him. He remembers, his soul remembers.

"I'm looking for someone? Allen? Do you know him?" Alphonse steps closer, his hands to his chest and pleading. The reaper flinches at his words. They stare at him like he's grown another head but Alphonse keeps hope.

"He's a reaper," They say as more of a statement, but he nods his head anyway. He can feel Allen somewhere, he wants to get back to him. He promised he would go back. The reaper looks down sadly.

"He's in an English speaking region, try there," They say bitterly. Alphonse smiles and sputters out as many thank you's as he can until the rip in the air the reaper made with his sword takes him away.

* * *

Allen does his best to not let his feelings get in the way but his heart hurts. He doesn't know what makes these people so entitled to think they can do this to the people who have been living in these lands for years. Allen cries just as much as they do, trying to make their deaths as peaceful as he can. He can feel parts of him dying along with them.

It doesn't help that he can feel the oncoming battle either. He can sense death to his core, and he knows when a war is brewing. This one is going to be bloody and tear families apart. He's not ready for it and yet he knows he is.

He's spent the last 20 years jumping from place to place, feeling the tug as a constant that people were dying and they needed his help. He hasn't stopped for more than a day. He can feel his strength growing and he's not sure he wants it too. He doesn't want to see the pain, but only he can bring the peace.

* * *

"Why can't I wear trousers like everyone else?" Emily stomps her foot, narrowing her blue eyes at her mother who narrows her eyes right back.

"Because ladies do not wear trousers," She hisses and Emily pouts openly, crossing her arms and huffing. In her defiance her mother slaps her to behave. Emily walks with tears in her eyes back to her room. She rubs at her cheek and looks out the window. She wants to go somewhere else and be free to wear what she wants.

She sniffs and fluffs at her dress, wanting to burn it in a small desire. She doesn't like that her brother can do things just because he's a boy. That's dumb to her. She'll fight to see that other girls can do just as much.

* * *

Allen doesn't like it, but he leans up against the wall to the balcony overlooking the theatrical play. He's not entirely interested in the play, just trying to figure out how this man is going to get away with what he's planning to do. Allen has tested some of the chances of life and death, but in the end, this man is destined to die.

He pretends to ignore the gunshot, following after the others when they finally realize what happened. He watches over as they try to get him to live, but Allen knows it won't happen. He's seen it all already. He places a hand on his head. Trying to make the last moments peaceful. The soul appears as a butterfly and immediately flies off. Allen chases after it. It guides him to the assassin. Allen watches as the man runs and tries to hide, he raises an eyebrow at him, feeling a tug elsewhere. He can feel he'll be back soon enough.

* * *

Emily raises her hands in the air, shouting and screaming like her mother never wanted her to do. She doesn't care. The other women around her are doing the same, demanding they have the same rights as the men do. She's been hearing the news about radical women, asking for and demanding that they be treated equally.

She had to be a part of it. She snuck out of her house and joined. She wanted this to happen. And she wants to be a part of it. Those in charge are giving in too. She can feel it. They will win this right and move on to another fight another day.

She throws her arms around another woman in the crowd when they are given their rights. She laughs loudly and smiles at the one in her arms. They stare wide eyed at her and she blushes softly before letting go. She and the other women celebrate their victory in the streets.

* * *

Allen is frankly amazed by the advancements the world is making. Connections are growing and people are happy. He's not sure how long it will last, but he knows it won't. There is always something bad happening. Right now though, he's going to enjoy the quiet that surrounds the cemetery. He lounges against Amelia's gravestone with his scythe in his lap. There are birds chirping in the hidden part of the world.

He's been so exhausted. He feels like there have been one to many wars in his period of work. This is one of the longest periods of time by himself that he's had in a long time. He's going to spend it in the nicest way possible. He maneuvers his scythe to make a new tally on her grave.

"Wish you were here doll," He mutters with a soft smile on his face. There's a slight nagging, asking him to get moving. He stands and stretches, smiling down fondly at the marker one last time before walking away. He knows if she was there, he'd be able to do it all easier. He'll just have to keep waiting.

It's been 200 years since he's seen her.

* * *

Emily smiles to herself in her garden, her trousers stained with the dirt. She reaches for a new plant when a sharp pain etches up her side. She gasps loudly, gripping at her body when the pain begins again. She groans and lurches back down. There's a yell from behind her but it sounds faint. She focuses on breathing but it hurts. She struggles for a moment longer until her body feels like it's floating.

She gasps and looks at the man in front of her. He's wearing a white shirt, with black suspenders and bow tie made of bones. She blinks hard and remembers, seeing the barracks and the peace of a city long before, of being a young girl dying of childbirth.

"Oh," She says. The man, or reaper, in front of her pouts a little.

"That's not very nice now is it dearie?" He giggles and holds out a hand to her, she takes it, letting him hoist her up. She holds her arms to her, spinning in circles, looking for.. Someone.

"Something wrong dear?" The reaper says to her. She faces him wide eyed, fully feeling the effect of disappointment.

"Can you help me? I'm looking for Allen," She says quickly, getting closer to him. He blinks at her confused. She bites her lip.

"Please?" She tries again. The Reaper's face suddenly brightens.

"I know him! He's a young reaper from across the world." He grabs her hands excitedly and she releases a breath of air. She's getting closer then.

"Try the North American continent dearie," he tells her, flipping out a small butter knife. He cuts the air and she goes quickly, wanting to get to Allen as quick as she can.

* * *

Even after seeing it for years, death did still not appeal to Allen. He still hated seeing it, at least unfairly. The wars and battles and the horrible things that people can do he never liked. It's his job, but he doesn't like taking the souls of the young or the unfairly injured. He does his best to give those he can a longer life. Seeing the explosions from his safe spot on the island didn't help his feelings.

He can get over this feeling but it's one of the few things that keep him sane. He has to do it, but he doesn't want to lose his compassion in the process. He doesn't want to lose the small amount of surviving emotions he has left. He doesn't want the people to lose theirs as well. He kicks his feet across the sand, wondering just what the world will come up with next.

The creature of technology is taking the world by storm. There are connections now made across the world with the flick of a wrist and he's impressed by it all. He just wishes those people used their genius for good.

He steps to a new area, taking the soul that is passing as easy as breathing. He helps it pass on soon enough. He spies himself in the glass of a shop. He looks himself back and forth and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his old time garb is replaced with a pair of black jeans and a black t shirt with small skulls all over. His coat is now an old fighter pilot jacket, the inside fur being of the same material he received long ago from a reaper before him.

He walks along the street in new shoes, carelessly tossing his scythe back and forth, thinking about it's feel and style. He tosses it up higher than normal and when it lands back in his hand it's smaller, leaner. He twists it back and forth, admiring the switch style it now has, still with some of the old marking on the blade like the tomahawk he received. He slips it into his jeans and slides his hands into his jacket pockets.

The people around do not notice him but he feels more at ease now looking similar to them. The times have changed and so has he.

He brushes his hand across the back of a passerby, letting their soul leave right before a truck hits them. He follows the soul to the grave of a person they once knew, apologies spilling from their lips as a different soul flutters on by and changes shape. He sends both of them on with a smile.

"Hey babe," He greets to the gravestone he's come to know. The cemetery hasn't been preserved well, but he'd recognize her stone by the markings on top. He places a small rose at the base of it and walks away.

* * *

"Mom it's okay," Alex sniffles, patting his mother on the head. She tries to smile at him but there are tears in her eyes that make him want to cry too. His father stands in the doorway, holding himself together as best he can. Alex has never been healthy. He started living at the hospital when he turned eight. He's nine now and nothing has changed. Even now he can feel his insides twisting in a way he knows they're not supposed to. It's starting to hurt.

He whimpers, his small body not being able to take the pain. The doctors are around him in seconds. It hurts. It hurts more than he can describe. He cries gently, wishing for someone, but he doesn't know who. Someone to take away the pain.

He's surprised when it stops hurting. He sits up suddenly, falling to his feet and scrambling up to run straight into a solid force. He blinks up at a tall man in the doorway wearing a large black hoodie. He nearly crawls away when his soul tells him to relax. He can see the women rejoicing for their rights, he can see the barracks of old, and he can see a child just recently born.

"Hi," He says, masking his disappointment. The person, the reaper, tilts his head to the side and holds out his hand. Alex takes it and lets the man guides him outside and away from the cries of his mother.

"Do you know Allen?" He turns his blue eyes up to the reaper, hoping with every bit of him and the lives he had before that he's getting closer. The reaper stops and looks down at him. Alex watches as he kneels down, now being able to see his face and messy blonde hair clearly under the black hood. He looks tired.

"I'm kind of glad you're not him, I'm a kid, and this'd be awkward," Alex says without a filter. The reaper cracks a small smile.

"You're looking for the United States." The reaper tells him and Alex smiles brightly. He's getting closer with every life. He thanks the reaper plenty, flying through the rip with new hope.

* * *

Allen walks the carnage of the flood. His feet step over the water like it's not even there. Every so often he knocks a pile of garbage out of the way to make noise and alert the rescue team near him there is movement when he finds a body that has a chance. He can sense the ones who will not make it no matter what.

It takes some time for him to find the ability to collect all the souls. There is a lot of innocent life that could have lived so much longer and it makes him sad to see them go. There is a cloud of butterflies above him by the time he finishes collecting them all. He digs his knife into the air and rips a large hole, allowing them all to pass through peacefully.

One of the butterflies flutter around his face for a moment longer and Allen can feel his chest heighten in hope only to have it killed when the soul passes on. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his sad thoughts. He will not deny that he begun to lose faith. He wants her back of course, but if she never does, he's trying to prepare himself for that. He looks up at the sky, sending out thoughts to her, to her soul, hoping she can hear him. Hoping that wherever her soul is, she can find a way to come back and save him.

* * *

"Mommy look!" Alfred presses his face to the glass of the toy store in front of him. He can see his own blue eyes blinking back at him as his little nose makes a small smudge on the glass until his mother pulls him back gently and kneels down next to him.

"You like Captain America huh?" She giggles and he nods his head quickly. Superheroes are his favorite thing. They are always on the good side, and they are always helping people.

"I'm going to save people mommy, just like them!" Alfred points at the glass excitedly as his mother takes his hand and pulls him along. He casts one last glance back at the toys, feeling a part of him know that one day he can really save someone.

* * *

Allen bangs his head up and down to the music the kids are playing in the park. It's not bad for a few amateurs, and the song is one he's heard. They are doing pretty well. He sighs from his spot in the tree, wishing his small break would last. Instead he lets his body fall when he feels a tug. He arrives at the scene just in time to see the cars crash together.

* * *

Alfred hoists his bag over his shoulder, having just given some of his books to a few kids who needed them for classes he already took. He smiles to himself, having done a good deed. Classes are done and he's on his way home for the summer. He presses the button for the crosswalk, waiting for the lights to signal when it's okay.

The walk sign turns green and he begins to go, stumbling a little when he hears tires screeching. Without thinking he runs forward, pushing the man in front of him out of the way of the car that has lost control. He feels pain first, being pinned between two cars, then nothing at all.

* * *

Allen reaches for the man between the cars, his body slightly mangled from its position between them. People are screaming around him as he makes the last few seconds bearable for the human. He can feel them lose their grip on the living and their souls flutters out. He takes a few steps back, waiting for the soul to come to him. The butterfly flutters around it's body for a moment, then a random passerby who is crying and shaking. Allen raises his eyebrows at that. He can feel their soul shaking, knowing it almost died.

He blinks wide eyed at the butterfly that comes up to him. It lands on his nose quickly and then shifts in front of him to the man between the cars. Allen stares at him then their face splits into a sunshine like smile.

"I found you," They say. Allen gives him a deadpan look, his eyes searching their face for something familiar.

"I told you I would," The stranger says getting closer, their smile never faltering. Allen scrunches up his face in confusion. This soul has got to be off it's rocker with its bright smile and big blue eyes and-

Allen drops his knife to the ground and covers his mouth with his hands. There are tears welling up in his eyes before he knows it. The soul laughs and wraps him up in his arms spinning him in circles happily. Allen clings to him, knowing exactly who those eyes belong to.

"You found me," He croaks out, holding the spirit's face in his hands, looking into those eyes that he's loved for years. He doesn't bother to stop the tears from coming down.

"Of course I did!" They cheer, picking him up once more. Allen laughs and holds him tight. He's missed this. He's missed them so much.

"Alfred is the name now," The soul says and Allen nods his head, his smile permanently stuck to his face. He wipes at his face trying to dry his eyes but it doesn't work. He smiles up at Alfred and sighs, feeling the world now off his shoulders. Alfred sputters out a laugh and then kisses him quickly.

"I missed you so much," Allen tells him, pulling him tight to him again. Alfred laughs in his ear and Allen doesn't want to let him go. It takes a while for his body to register a new tug, wanting to take him to a new place. He steps backwards with Alfred still in his arms to get there. He's a little shaky as he takes the soul out of happiness then realization hits. Just before he can make a cut in the air he stares at Alfred. Will this cut take him away? But that doesn't happen. The cut is made and the other soul goes through without a hitch. Alfred comes up behind him to hug him tight.

"Wait," Allen says, his voice cracking once more as he turns to face the soul he's waited so long for. Alfred instantly looks panicked, holding Allen's face in his hands and staring at him intently.

"When are you.." Dread fills Allen and he can't finish the sentence. Alfred makes an 'oh' face and glares at the ground. Allen is shaking. He can't go through the pain of not having Alfred around. He needs to prepare himself for it when he inevitably needs to leave.

"Well there is still someone I need to save," Alfred admits quietly. Allen stares up at him, his fears becoming more and more real as the seconds go by. Time has never passed this slow before.

"Oh well, when do they, go I mean, so I can expect when you-" Allen's rambling is cut off by a quick kiss, silencing him into a daze. Alfred smiles again, something Allen can easily get used to.

"It's you silly," Alfred laughs and nuzzles against him, holding him tight. Allen allows himself to be spoiled, clinging to Alfred with everything he has. There's no way that can work, but right now Allen wants to believe Alfred is there for him.

* * *

"I've been here," Alfred says moving about and looking around. Allen smirks at the spirit in it's butterfly form on his shoulder. They are visiting England for a quick trip to take the soul of a young man on his way home to the states. Doesn't quite make it to the airport. Allen pauses on the side of the street, waiting. It doesn't take long for the cars to crash. He moves forward and pets the human, letting their soul flutter up out of their body.

"It's still weird to see," Alfred says from his shoulder. Allen chuckles and digs his knife into the air, letting it tear and setting the soul inside. It closes up and Allen signs.

"Oh Allen is that you?" The reaper turns around to see Oliver standing there in his suspenders. The reaper smiles at him then gasps at the butterfly on his shoulder. Allen prepares to explain when Alfred flutters off and takes his human form.

"You!" Alfred says happily, rushing forward to pick Oliver up in his arms and swing him around. Allen raises an eyebrow to the scene, becoming increasingly more confused as Oliver looks Alfred up and down and then exclaims loudly.

"You found him! Oh I'm so happy!"

"Whoa, whoa," Allen interrupts them, holding his hands up to get their attention. He looks between the two of them.

"You two.. know each other?" He asks cautiously coming closer. Alfred nods his head quickly.

"Yeah! I met him when I was Emily," He says and Allen's jaw drops.

"You were reincarnated before coming back to me?" He asks slowly and Alfred now fidgets. Oliver sighs and nods his head.

"I was a few people actually," Alfred admits. He smiles sheepishly at Allen. The reaper lets out a puff of air and grabs Alfred by the hand. They both say quick goodbyes to Oliver before jumping the darkness to a spot Allen knows all too well. Amelia's gravestone is still there after all the years.

They sit in the grass, Alfred going over the few lives he had before coming back to him. He tells about the few reapers he met on his journey, Allen intercepting names for them when he realizes who they are. Alfred gets a little too excited when he figures out who the reaper is with the black hoodie, wanting to see Matt again now knowing who he is from the time Allen talked about him from when he was still Amelia.

"You were searching for me that whole time?" Allen asks quietly when Alfred finishes talking. Alfred nods his head, giving him a smile. Allen can't help it, he pushes forward and kisses him sweetly.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," He whispers. Alfred sputters into giggles, kissing him back. They spend a few more minutes cuddling in the grass until Allen feels the tug of a new person. Alfred holds his hand tightly through the jump. He shifts back into a butterfly and rests on Allen's shoulder as he works. Allen keeps glancing to Alfred there with him, smiling to himself. Alfred is worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YL4SgNv_jc8) was used as inspiration.


	2. A Thousand Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long lasting promise that dares to make him hope.

Francois isn't sure how long he stays in the blackness, but he feels at ease inside of it. It's comforting in a way he didn't know such darkness could be. It covers his body and holds him close like nothing would ever be able to hurt him as long as he just kept still. That feeling didn't last. He could feel a pull of something, begging him to go to them and to help, to do something. He blinks his eyes, looking into the darkness, seeing the foggy outline of something on the ground. He walks slowly towards it, looking down once he gets close enough.

He can feel something inside of them ceasing to exist. They try to breathe but their lungs are breaking. Francois gulps and leans down, placing a gentle hand on their arm. He jerks back startled when they sigh against him, and a misty form appears over their body. The small winged creature flutters around his face then flies off. Francois lazily picks himself up to follow. The creature leads him to a small clearing. He walks to the center of it where an odd object is sticking out of the ground. It's small, a wooden handle and a sharp blade at the end. He picks it up off the ground, then turns to give the small creature an incredulous look.

The insect flutters around some more, waiting for something. Francois sighs and inspects the object. He swings it across in front of him and drops it entirely when the air rips open in front of him to reveal a purple mass into a new area. The insect flies straight into it and the rip seals without any notice. Francois catches his breath, staring down at the object that ripped open the sky. He picks it back up in his hand and he can feel the power inside of it. It calls for him to follow. He shudders at the idea.

Instantly the blackness comes to him, it shrouds his being, wrapping around him and cloaking him in black. He tugs it closer, anything to feel some sort of comfort in the loneliness. A part of him tugs, it pulls him to move forward. He sniffs, having a stray tear escape. The tool in his hand pulls him once more and he steps off to a new area. The darkness moves him to where he needs to be. He feels sick in his stomach, but he follows the tool, and lets it guide him to what he needs to do.

* * *

Francois sees many kings die. He's not sure how to feel about it. He wonders if he should try to do something for them, to let them live longer or give them those few last moments of life to give them the peace they need. He doesn't though. It's not his job to make them happy. He just has to wait for the soul to move on and be happy with the state of the area they used to control. Then he can open the sky and let them through.

He places his head on the just deceased king and lets their soul fly out. The small creature shifts back into the form of the man. Francois watches as he places one last kiss to the top of his wife's head and Francois sneers at the action. He opens the rift and lets the soul be pulled through.

Every so often a soul will wait for another to go with them in peace. Sometimes it takes years, sometimes days. Francois sees them all. He doesn't know how some of them can stay for that long. All the souls have memories of all their lives before, and to wait just this specific time for another is odd to him. They have a new life to begin, why wait for this one. He grits his teeth ignoring the pit of loneliness that wants to explode inside of him.

* * *

War is something Francois doesn't understand and wishes he would never see again. He walks the battlefield slowly, stopping every so often to let a soul pass on, gaining a small collection of moths above him. He can feel the death crawling over the surface of the earth and it calls to him. He wants to make it stop but he knows, he knows so well that there is no other way. He shuts his eyes tight, wanting nothing more than to know that this would never happen again.

It will. He can feel it inside of him. He knows of all the deaths that will come and he knows this won't be the end of the slaughter these humans will inflict upon themselves. It makes him bitter in that moment. All these wonderful things the humans can do and they choose to destroy themselves. Francois barely touches another body, finding himself thinking the humans deserved it.

Once all the souls are flying in the sky, he takes his dagger and rips a whole open. They flutter inside and disappear. One last little moth flies around his head once then leaves him. He sneers at the action. He doesn't need the souls pity. Some do that, stay for him just a little while longer to see if he is okay. They never last. They leave him and he rather they did. Hanging onto a soul that can leave him would hurt too much. He's not stupid enough to allow that to happen.

* * *

Clovis didn't have a lot, in fact, he and his family had next to nothing. He stands from his spot on the farm to look back towards the house. His wife is there smiling at him as she cuddles the baby close. He relaxes for a moment, taking in her beauty. Life is hard on them, having barely any food to survive and selling just enough to make it through the day. Winter is coming and there is a chance they may not last through this one.

He picks up his tools once more and keeps going. He will go for her. She gave him a chance when no one else did and he's doing his best to keep her happy. She loves him and he will love her with everything he has. He will do everything in his power to make her happy and give her the love she deserves. And she deserves so much more than the life he's given her. He promises to make it better.

* * *

The amount of time Francois has been around has always been blurry in his head. He tries to never keep track of the days that go by. Knowing just how long he's been on his own doesn't sound appealing to him. Time has always been shifting beneath him anyway. But the humans have made time, made a term to keep track of the length of how long the sun has revolved around them. Against his better judgment he listens in and hates himself for it. Nearly a thousand years has he been on his own and now it hurts.

He narrows his eyes and leaves the hall of aristocrats in a huff. He knew he shouldn't have listened but his curiosity got the better of him. He leans up against a random tree to collect himself. He can't continue on working in the rut he is now. He tries to block the knowledge from fully settling in him. He's been alone this whole time and there is no reason for it to affect him now. Yet all he wants to do is disappear to somewhere warm and lovely. He hates it.

The next death he visit is a brutal one and he almost feels relieved at seeing the death happen. Had there been someone with him they would have surely tried to stop him from making it worse. He didn't need that kind of compassion or pity. He is perfectly fine on his own and will continue to do so for as long as the world is dying.

* * *

Seeing the other reaper put Francois in dizzy. Seeing someone who did the same thing he did almost made him tear up. Seeing he isn't alone in the world, seeing someone else who can also see him, makes him question everything. He shakes those thoughts out of his head. They are both here on business and he does not plan to make friends now.

"Oh hello," The other reaper comes up to him in the middle of the battlefield. Francois regards the shorter reaper coldly not knowing anything else. They are dressed in black as well, though their outfit is more like grey than anything. They carry a small knife in their hand. Francois just grunts in reply, ripping open the air for the souls to go through.

"My name is Oliver," They say. Francois sighs and faces them again, looking over the pretend cheerful look on their face. Or is it real, he's not sure and he doesn't care. He's seen this reaper before actually. The region of death he is in charge seems to have some sort of endless qwerl with his. This is just the first time they have had the nerve to talk to him.

"Okay," He says back to them and walks away. He ignores their call to wait and moves to his next pull of death. There is no point in making friends with other reapers. They'll only see each other for a few minutes every hundred years or so, and he doesn't want to look forward to that.

* * *

"Joan," Her mother says to her. Joan looks up from her spot on the floor. Her mother smiles down at her and she smiles back. She listens carefully as her mother tells her she will do great things with their country. She keeps quiet, not telling her mother that god has already spoken to her about this.

One day soon, she will take up a sword and protect her country more fiercely than anyone has ever before. She knows what she must do. When her mother is done talking she nods her head, telling her that she understands. There is nothing more that she loves than her country and she will see to it that it is taken care of.

* * *

"It's okay that you don't want to talk to me," Oliver says when they see each other again. Francois grimaces in annoyance at him. He doesn't want to interact with this other reaper. He doesn't want to interact with anyone. Still, Oliver came to him when he saw him and tried his hardest to converse though it usually ends with Francois leaving without a word.

"Can I know your name? Please?" He stops when Oliver steps into his path. He blinks down at the reaper and sneers. There is absolutely no point in knowing each other and yet he's trying so hard.

"You're the only other person I see," Oliver admits quietly and Francois sighs. He may not like interacting, but this reaper does, and they are taking it a lot harder than he is. He rubs the back of his head.

"Francois," He tells him gruffly. Oliver's face lights up and he wraps Francois in a quick hug that makes him jerk back. Oliver doesn't seem to notice giggling happily and then running off and into the blackness. Francois shudders at the action, having never been hugged before.

His shudder shifts the darkness around him, making it more form fitting into a uniform of the people his region is over. He looks himself up and down, wondering why exactly the blackness shifted for him. His small dagger scythe has changed, making it longer and sharper like the swords of the people. He sighs, not knowing exactly why, but not caring to change the new outfit. Not like anyone will care.

* * *

"I am not afraid," Joan told the people behind her. "I was born to do this." She hoists her sword up to hold in front of her, her armor glittering in the sun light. The ranks behind her yell with her and she guides them forward with the hand of god keeping her steady.

Some may have laughed but none of them are laughing now as she shows them exactly what god had told her to do when she was younger. This is what she was born to do and she will do it forever if she has to. She loves her country and will never see it fall.

* * *

Francois watches almost bored as they tie the young woman up to the stake. He's heard about her and he dare say he kind of admires her strength. He swallows down the part of him that wishes he could make this not the way she dies. She's so young and she doesn't deserve such a death. But it is life.

The pyre is lit and he doesn't know what compels him to move but he does. He walks through the crowd, knowing they won't see him, and straight through the flames. He covers her eyes with his hand, letting the flames lick her body but not letting her feel any of the pain that goes with it. People scream and yell aloud for her to make a noise but she does not, simply breathing in and out and until her body feels too weak to continue.

He backs away from the flames, letting her be burned in peace now with her soul not attached. The small moth flies to him, circling his head before shifting form. He expects the young woman to run or to leave him to search for someone else but she just stands and stares at him. She does so until her body behind her is unrecognizable, her expression changing from confusion to understanding.

"You are sad," She says to him. He raises an eyebrow to that not knowing where on the living world she would have gotten that idea. He takes out his sword ready to cut the air when she places a gentle hand on his arm.

"Why are you so sad?" He shakes her off. She doesn't look hurt by his actions, just more curious than anything. He blinks at her and takes a deep breath.

"Young ones should not die," He says. A small smile graces her features.

"I am old enough to know I am okay." Francois grits his teeth. He doesn't really want to sit here and chat with a soul for very long. He has other places to be.

"You have not answered me," She says stepping closer. He flinches out of instinct, bringing his arms closer to his body. Her eyes widen and a pained look crosses her face. Francois gulps at the innocence this soul still has. It is not very old, and still naïve as he used to be. She looks at the ground before looking back at him with a new determination.

"I love my country more than anything, and one day I will come back for you to love you more than anything." Francois is put off by her conviction and the small crease in her brows that sets in stone the seriousness she feels. He whips his sword down cutting the air and allowing the soul to go through, but she doesn't move to the rip. She stays in her human form to give him a mild tempered glare.

"I will come back to you," She says. Francois can't help but stare at her, her soul rejecting the pull of the other side.

"Believe me sad one," She says coming another step closer. The rip waivers and her body lurches but she keeps walking to him. She places a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Do not lose hope," then she loses her ground. Her soul is dragged through the rip. Francois finds himself reaching out a hand to the open air that just closed with a small pain in his chest. He reels back quickly enough, stalking off to a new spot of death. He shakes his head roughly. Promises are fake and for the humans. He will take no part in them.

* * *

The years following the death of Joan of Arc, the region Francois is in charge goes into mourning. They loved the young girl and Francois grits his teeth of every passing instance of her name. Every moment of his existence is spent remembering the way she looked at him and it drives him up the wall in anger.

She made a measly little promise about him and coming back and he doesn't believe it. There is no way one soul would be able to make it back to him, and remember after all this time what they said. He will not believe it. He will not allow himself to hope that much that someone out there cares enough about him for that.

He is a reaper of souls and they do not work with others. They do not have friends or lovers or anything like that. They have death and sadness. Francois places his hand to the arm of a young boy who got too sick one night and the family did not have enough money to cover the medical expenses. Francois makes his last few moments bearable as the family cries.

He waits for the soul to finish crying as well. The moth shifted into the boy instantly, holding onto his mother tight and trying to tell her in vain that he would see her again and that everything would be okay.

Francois leaves them when he feels the tug, going to another part of his region where a old woman is about die with her husband's soul sitting next to her already. He helps her into death as soon as he's allowed.

"Thank you for letting me wait for her," The man says once his wife is in his arms. Francois bows his head simply, gritting his teeth the whole time. He makes a rip and the souls leave. He clenches tight to his sword scythe, feeling the anger inside of him. He takes the back of a random chair in hand and throws it wildly. It crashes against the wall alerting the housekeeper downstairs. He walks off when they start to exclaim about the dead woman on the bed.

Francois can feel deep inside him the pain he feels, and he will ignore it. The promises of a ignorant little girl will not affect him.

* * *

Marianne giggles as another boy places a flower on her head. She smiles pretty for them and they laugh like she just chose them for later in life. She doesn't mind. To her it is all fun and games. She doesn't know why but she can feel deep inside her that there is someone out there who needs more love than anyone else in the world. She can't wait to find them and show them how much love she can give them.

She's called to dinner and she blows a few kisses for the boys, ignoring the improper looks that the elder women give her. She'll be scolded for it at home for sure but it means very little to her. Her heart is strong and she will give out as much love as she sees fit. And right now there is too little in the world.

* * *

He didn't know what to expect upon seeing Oliver again, but the smaller reaper pulled him in for a hug as soon as he could reach him. Francois tries to push him away put Oliver holds on tight. With a rough shove is he able to get the other off him.

"What happened?" Oliver asks, jumping right back into his bubble. Francois twists up his face in confusion causing Oliver to place his hands on his hips.

"Don't pretend not to know, you look worse than usual." Oliver places a hand on his forehead and Francois pushes him away yet again. He doesn't need this kind of pity. He begins to do his job while Oliver prattles on behind him about how unhealthy it is to keep his emotions locked inside. The chiding begins to grate on his nerves.

" _Look_ ," Francois interrupts him. Oliver stops short, covering his mouth with his hands like he said the wrong words. To Francois, he may as well have.

"I don't care about emotions or anything like that. I have a job to do and so do you." He spits out and goes back to helping the souls leave their bodies. He ignores the small twinge in his heart when Oliver sniffles.

"That's so sad," he says. Francois snaps up immediately, looking at Oliver like he burned him. The words sound too familiar. In a panic, Francois jumps away from where he is a to a new area, leaning down in the grass and breathing heavily. He grips his hands into the dirt. It hurts him somewhere inside. He doesn't want to believe in the promise given to him. No amount of sadness will change that.

* * *

"I said no!" Marianne stomps her foot like stubborn child to the proposal once again thrown in her face. She's lost count of how many times this insufferable man has asked her to marry him. Every time she has denied him her love. He does not deserve it in the slightest. Her heart belongs to another, a young stable boy farther north who is sweeter than any aristocrat who thinks she may be worth their time.

Her anger turns to fear as the man lunges for her. She screams and kicks as hard as she can but she can't pry the hands off her neck. She fights only to have the air choked form her body. She inhales as hard as she can and then feels nothing. She feels light as she flies away from her body, shifting back to a human form outside of her house. She feels tears in her eyes and she holds her hands to her throat. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the tall man in front of her. She gasps at seeing them so suddenly.

"Sorry," They mumble out, for what she's not sure. Her soul feels light, and she remembers seeing someone like this before. She steps closer to the man and reaches her hands up to remove their fur hood from their face. They let her and already she can tell this is not who she's looking for though they look the same.

"You should not cover your face so much, how can you see?" She teases a little. The man, the reaper she guesses, looks away a little shyly causing her to giggle.

"Do you know another reaper? Perhaps a blonde one? Kind of sad as well," She rambles a little as she walks into the woods. While part of her wants to see her reaper again, this life wants to see her stable boy until he passes. The reaper follows her, shaking his head.

"There is another reaper I know, who knows more, maybe he can help," They tell her in a grumble. He explains how to find the other and she laughs again, thanking him greatly with a kiss to the top of his head like a mother. She waves bye, smiling more at the gentle blush on his cheeks. Oh how she wishes he could find love too.

* * *

Seeing the sky covered black with ash from the canons makes him hurt inside. Even after all these years of seeing the war and strife, and even though it gives him something to do, it's not his favorite thing in the world. Francois waits for it all to be over, not moving from his spot on the edge of the battlefield until it's called to an end. He cannot be hurt if he is to be struck by a sword, but he does not care to be stabbed by one anyway.

Once all the living are far away does he walk to collect those who have died. There are a few younger ones on the grass that make his heart pound. He doesn't believe the young ones should be put through this and yet here they are. None are as young as she was though. He growls to himself at the random memory of her. He hates to think of her, he hates to think of what she told to him.

Even though he tries not to, thinking of her happens naturally. She made an impression on him and she's stuck with him. The world has been cruel in every aspect he has seen, and yet she had such stubborn kindness in her. It makes him ache and he just wants the pain to end.

* * *

Josephine wipes her face as best she can with her already soaked dress. She feels pain inside as the cold wraps around her body.

"Papa," She cries out, reaching out a hand. Her father cradles her close but she still hurts. She tells him so and he tells her it will be over soon. She hopes so, the chains on her ankles are starting to freeze to her skin. She trembles in her father's hold, feeling him start to stiff. She only has the energy to cry a little more when she suddenly can't feel nothing at all.

She crashes straight into her father's arms when she opens her eyes again. There is a man next to them, smiling a little and covered in black furs. She doesn't know him, but she can tell she knows one like him, somewhere.

"Do you know other reapers?" She asks in her tiny voice though she feels as old as ages. The man raises an eyebrow at her question then nods his head with a smile.

"Yeah, they are across the ocean," He tells her and she sighs. It's not much help, but it is a closer start to where she might need to be. She smiles up at the spirit of her father who smiles down at her and they go through the rip together.

* * *

"Francois!" He groans at the cheerful call of his name, preparing his face to grimace when Oliver crashes into him for a hug. The moment he can get his hands in the right spot he pushes the reaper away from him. Why Oliver felt the need to hug him or even smile around him made him annoyed. Francois sighs and lets Oliver pull him to a different area.

Oliver takes him to two other beings. One of them is in a black uniform styled to his own with a scythe sword as well. Their hair is longer and silver. Next him is a small boy with unruly curly yellow hair and a black covering. Francois raises an eyebrow to the kid, half expecting it to be a soul who needs some more time, but upon seeing the small dagger attached to his side, he thinks otherwise.

"This is Klaus and Lutz," Oliver introduces them though he's not sure why. He may see these reapers again, but that doesn't mean he has to know all of them. The one gestured to as Klaus nods his head, waving his hand about in a hello sort of manner. The young boy glares up at him, sticking his tongue out. Francois narrows his eyes slightly, almost enjoying the frightened look the boy gives back to him.

"I hope this ends soon," Oliver says quietly. Klaus nods his head in agreement, using his hand to make more movements for words. Francois sighs. He knows it won't end. He can feel death in his being, and it will never stop. There is too much hate in the world.

* * *

Louis gulps as the other boys pull him along. His best friend snickers and squeezes his hand tighter. He has a hard time keeping the blush off his face. They stop at the edge of the lake and strip down. Louis doesn't know why but he feels the need to avert his eyes. It doesn't feel right looking at his friends when it makes him feel so bubbly inside.

"Louis come on you pansy!" Jeremy shouts to him, splashing a bit of the water up. Louis sticks his tongue out at him blindly, tearing off the rest of his clothes and cannonballing in. He shakes his head once he surfaces, laughing wildly with the rest of them. Jeremy swims over to him, giggling maniacally and grabs his hand under the water. Louis doesn't feel the need to tell him he can swim fine on his own, because this feels like a little more than that.

* * *

He's not sure why the darkness pulled him to this new land. The reaper of this region would collect the souls eventually. Francois walks along the rows of the dying, looking down at their faces and wondering why this battle happened. Did he even want to know what caused such a calamity? He sighs and kneels down next a person whose breathing has become haggard. He places a hand on their arm, giving them a few seconds of ease until another reaper comes for their soul.

"Hey," Francois looks up lazily to the reaper standing there. This one has a small axe shaped scythe in his hand, and a black coat made of furs. Francois backs away from the body, letting the other closer to place a hand on their head and let the soul come out in the shape of a butterfly. Francois grimaces at the sight, wondering why he got the moth instead.

"I'm Allen," The reaper introduces himself, not offering a hand in greeting. Francois doesn't entirely mind, he wouldn't have shaken it anyway. He debates for a second, wondering if he should say his name back when the reaper calls out to another. Francois watches Allen run to a tall reaper in a coat as well, longer, but still made of furs. He looks tired with his long hair pulled back in a red ribbon.

Francois grips his sword tight when they get closer. Another introduction is made by Allen and Francois merely tips his head, almost shocked when the taller does the same, not saying a word either. The three of them stand at the edge of the battlefield once all the soul are back where they need to be. It's almost peaceful now, staring out at the ocean. In that moment, he thinks of her. Francois shuts his eyes tight.

There will never be peace inside him. No matter how calm the world may seem and how apathetic he may want to be, he knows it's cruel. There is no love without hate. He turns back to the dead behind him. How someone could live happily like this, he'll never know.

* * *

With Jeremy's hand in his, Louis runs. Someone caught them being a little more than friends and the only choice they have is leaving. Louis wipes at his face, trying to keep his eyes clear as they run away from home. Jeremy squeezes his hand, pulling him just a little more.

How the world could be so cruel just because of who they liked Louis isn't sure but he wants it to change. He shouldn't have to run from his family who told him he would go to hell. He and his lover shouldn't have to hide everything they are in order to live. It's painful to think he'd have to hide forever.

When they come to a stop Louis pulls Jeremy close, crying softly into his shoulder. Jeremy whispers into his hair about what they are going to do. It does little for his fears, but knowing Jeremy would be with him, to make everything less lonely, makes it just a little bit better.

* * *

Something about this riot resonated with him. Francois could feel it in his bones that these people had enough of whatever their leaders threw at them. Change has come and he's almost excited to see what the people do. He can feel their anger inside him and he skews the line. Just a little, but making sure that footing isn't as stable, and that doors aren't locked as they ought to be.

When the king is brought forth and the people are cheering, yelling, shouting for the death, Francois feels it. Usually people fear death, they do not want it, but they are almost calling to him now. He stands right by the executioner, waiting with his sword in front of him to do his own job once this one is over. He doesn't stop it, and he doesn't take away the pain.

He nudges the headless body with his foot, letting the soul be pried out of what remains. The moth shifts into the form of the king, who shouts loudly though no one can hear him that he is sorry for his actions. Francois glares, if the king truly meant his words, he wouldn't have done what he did in the first place. Francois swings his sword, letting the soul be dragged back into the other world as the people calm and think about what they are to do now that they have some moments of peace. For once, Francois feels just a little of the peace with them. Though in his body he can tell it will get worse before it gets better.

He hangs his head when he knows this peace is what that soul would have wanted. The fighting to stop, and the world to just rest easy. He sighs, wishing he could understand. But that warmth is not for him, and he dreads deep down the soul has forgotten him. After all, it's been nearly 360 years.

* * *

Even after all this time, Louis still got the bubble of excitement in his stomach when Jeremy pulls him close and kisses him sweetly. He smiles up at his secret lover, admiring the crinkles he now has and how age suits him well. They've lived in secret for as long as they can remember, passing off as two long term friends instead of more. Jeremy laughs and swings him about, dancing around their small room without a care in the world. To have no one questioning their relationship anymore is like a breath of fresh air.

Late that night Louis runs his fingers through his lover's hair, answering quickly when Jeremy tells him he loves him. He closes his eyes and feels the breath in Jeremy's body slowly come to a halt. A bittersweet smile crosses his face knowing he will join him soon enough. They've lived happily and he's okay letting go now. He takes one last deep breath and an overwhelming sense of peace comes over him.

To see his love looking sharp as he did in their younger days fills Louis with joy. He hugs him tight in their spirit form, smiling next to the ginger haired man in a black suit vest near them. Louis laughs into the sweet kisses on his cheeks when the memories resurface.

"Wait!" He interrupts the man about to cut the air with a small knife. The reaper smiles at him, nodding his head for him to continue.

"Do you know another reaper? A sad looking one? I need to find him." Somewhere inside Louis can feel the sadness the other has. He's getting closer. The reaper in front of him covers his mouth with his hands and gasps.

"That's what happened?" He squeaks out. Louis blinks at him, not entirely understanding his meaning but the reaper pulls out a paper from his back pocket, pointing to a section on the map shown on it.

"He's around here I'm sure of it." The reaper bites his lip in concentration and Louis laughs.

"Thank you," He says and the reaper bows with a big smile on his face. The rip is cut and he follows Jeremy inside, waiting to be changed to a new person.

* * *

As much as Francois dislikes war, he has a small admirance for those who served. To go into battle and risk their lives for something stupid or another seemed bold to him and he would never partake in such an act. He walks into the house of an old veteran, waiting just a minute longer before making the last seconds peaceful as they sit overlooking the city. He backs away as their soul leaves their body, not taking the shape of the moth he has come to know but of the man just in front of him. Their face twists up into something like disappointment.

"You're not who I was expecting," They say and Francois raises an eyebrow at that. Who did they expect to see he's not sure and he doesn't particularly care either. He unsheathes his sword ready to make the cut when they stop him.

"Wait!" They yell. Francois glances over his shoulder at the veteran, growing just a hint younger the longer they stay a soul.

"Can you help me?" His glance turns to a glare as they continue to talk. He doesn't have anywhere to be just yet, but waiting for a soul to figure out exactly what they need to do is a little annoying. Though it is his job to help them pass on.

"I'm looking for someone? Allen? Do you know him?" Francois can't help but flinch at what the spirit says. His eyes widen and his thoughts begin to race. Never has he heard a soul search for a reaper before. In this moment he think of her, and the promise she made him so long ago.

"He's a reaper," He says, and they nod their head. He met Allen years ago. He kind of remembers where his region is. Francois looks to the ground, trying to keep himself from missing the soul who said they'd come back. As much as he wants to tell this soul to buzz off and force them through, he knows she would never let him forget his cruelty, and he would be devastated is someone did the same to her.

"He's in an English speaking region, try there," He says more harshly than he intends. The spirit smiles at him and thanks him over many times as Francois whips his sword through the air to get the soul away from him. He drops to his knees when they are gone. Breathing is hard to come by and he is filled with a sense of hope like he's never felt before. It burns inside of him. He tries to push it down, not wanting the pain of having that hope killed once more. He dies a little more inside everytime it happens. If this one doesn't leave a physical mark, he's not sure what will.

* * *

New advances of the world took Francois by surprise. He never expected the humans to get as far as they did with their technology. He's a little excited to see it come full force, until he remembers that they will probably kill themselves in worse ways. He groans to himself, walking off down a random street. There are people milling about him, dressed in fancy clothes and laughing to themselves. Francois shudders at the thought but his shudder brings on a new wave of darkness.

He groans, now looking at himself in a passing mirror of a shop. His old military outfit is gone, now replaced with a simple pair of black pants and a black button up. He unbuttons the first few buttons so he doesn't feel strangled. His scythe morphs in his hand and he grimaces down at the object. As upset he may be by the sudden change, the shaving styled razor now in his hand feels much better than the sword he used to carry around. It feels natural in his hold, so maybe it's not all bad.

He continues to walk until the darkness takes him somewhere new, it's not long in to wondering why he's there when a person skids off the road and into a pole in front of them. Francois blinks down at the new wreck, reaching a hand into the small newly made car to place a hand on the human, but their soul does not come to him. He sighs and steps back, waiting. A new reaper appears quickly, placing a hand on the human and extracting their soul in the shape of a small dog.

Klaus sighs and looks to him sadly. Francois sighs in response. The other reaper gestures to his clothes and he just shrugs. He didn't entirely decide for the switch, but he's not going to complain. Klaus smiles a little, ripping a hole and letting the dog jump through. Once the hole is sealed, his outfit changes as well, his old uniform morphing into something cozier looking, a jacket of sorts to cover him up and his scythe, once styled like a sword is now smaller, more stereotypical with a bird skull on top. Klaus takes the new scythe and a chain materializes as he places it around his neck. He smiles to Francois and disappears. Francois rather likes Klaus, he can't talk, which means he can't say anything stupid. He kicks the car before leaving himself.

* * *

Francis clacks his toy sword against his friend's laughing dramatically as his older sister plays princess behind him, sputtering about all being lost. He stabs his friend, giggling in his hand when they clamp the sword under their arm and fall backwards. He grabs his sister's hand holding it up like a prize.

"You must always have hope, for I will always come for you!" he yells out. His sister rolls her eyes and he and his friend stand to bow for the little old man who watched them from his spot on his porch. Francis giggles again, smiling over at his sister. He would always save her, even when he's small, he feels happy knowing she really does have hope he would go to her.

* * *

He shudders against the cold, not expecting such harsh weather from the region he's been called to. He walks behind the person he's supposed to be near, watching as their life slowly dies out in the cold they hadn't been prepared for. Francois sighs when they finally fall to the snow beneath them, moaning out one last squeak of help.

A tree branch is broken loudly and a new call of voices is heard. Francois raises an eyebrow as people come over the snowed on hill, gasping and shouting for blankets and warmth. He leans against a tree, waiting for the soul to die but it never does. He can feel the life given back to it in an act he had no control over.

His eyes shift to a looming figure coming closer to him. A reaper he can tell, with a long black coat and a red scarf. The scythe in their hand is long handled with the stereotypical curved blade at the end of it. Francois nods his head in acknowledgment when they stop in front of him.

"You did nothing," They say to him and he shrugs. He's stopped messing with the pattern of life and death a long time ago, if something natural is to happen, he let it flow. The reaper raises an eyebrow at his lack of answer.

"Something besides the weather has made you cold," Francois can't really deny that accusation.

"And?" He says back to them. They say nothing before sighing and leaning up against the same tree as the recently saved person is hauled off and away from them. The two reapers stand in silence, admiring the way the snow falls around them.

"My name is Vlad, and I hope you find your warmth," The reaper nods his head and disappears just as quick. Francis rolls his eyes, not letting the idea settle inside him. He doesn't need warmth.

* * *

Francis thunks his back against the muddy wall, peeking over the edge as best as he can. He takes a deep breath and stands up quickly, firing off his weapon twice then dropping back down. He grips his gun tight, tying to calm himself down.

He didn't want to be in this war. He never wanted to see it happen. He's always been a lover not a fighter, and having to do just that tore him up inside. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the tears out of them, from his feelings or from the dirt flying up he's not sure. He doesn't want to do this and yet he knows he has to. There is nothing else that he knows how to do.

A new being plops down next to him and they share a quick nod of acknowledgement. Francis doesn't know them but they are on the same side of things based off their uniform. The other man makes a gesture, pointing to a new area, a safer one. Francis gulps and stands up once again, firing over the wall that separates him from death. He and the other soldier run across to a new area. Right before he can make it inside, Francis feels a split in his side. He crumples to the ground and pants hard. He can feel the bullet that grazed him. It hurts. Someone above him is yelling at him but he can't tell what they are saying anymore. He feels oddly calm, and then nothing at all.

For a moment, Francis looks over his own body, being pulled for only a moment until the realization that he is not going to wake. He rubs at his arms slowly, not know what to do in his new death until the memories come back to him. The pyre, the stable boy, the running, the reaper. He spins in a circle until he spots a figure near him, one that is not who he wanted.

"Ah," He says with a small smile. This reaper is taller than the one he's looking for, darker looking and a long black coat covering their body and a red scarf.

"Would you be able to help me before I go?" Francis asks stepping closer to them. He can see their face scrunch up but they nod anyway.

"I'm looking for someone, someone like you. They have blonde hair, and look very sad. Do you know one like that?" He holds his hands to his chest looking up hopefully at the reaper with dark eyes. They pause for a moment, looking off in the distance with a sad look in their eyes.

"Please, I've been looking for so long," Francis watches their face as they think. Their shoulders drop and they look back to him, nodding their head.

"I think I know who you are searching for," Their tone is clipped, but Francis can hear the pain inside of it. He can't help the smile at the new information.

"You are looking for a region in the French country," The reaper says. Francis runs a hand through his hair and smiles up at the reaper.

"Thank you, thank you so much," He says as they swing their long scythe in the air, opening a rip for other souls to hop through. Francis does so eagerly, wanting more and more to get to where he needs to go.

* * *

The sky feels black as the death surrounding him. Francois walks along with the rest of the reapers in the area, bringing all the souls into the sky to be put into the other world as soon as they were all okay to do so. He said his hello's to Oliver and Klaus earlier and now stands by himself, waiting for the other's to finish up their jobs. He runs a hand through his hair making it seem more shaggy than normal. He looks around him, watching as a small spirit rabbit hops up to Vlad and shifts into the form of a man. He raises an eyebrow at the two, conversing for a moment when he hears a small bit of what they are saying.

"They have blonde hair, and look very sad. Do you know one like that?" His heart stops in his chest. He drops his razor carelessly to the ground and stares at the spirit man talking. He can barely see them but he catches a glimpse of their eyes and longing races through him. Vlad looks up from the man to him and Francois feels frozen. He can't move. The spirit keeps talking and Vlad looks pained, something like understanding flashing in his eyes.

"I think I know who you are searching for," He can hear his reaper friend say. Slowly Francois backs away. He can't see it again as they are taken from him. With a sad expression, Vlad cuts the sky and the souls fly through. Something in Francois snaps and he falls to the ground. He covers his face with his hands and digs his nails into his scalp.

It's not fair. It's not fair how close he managed to be to them, only to have them ripped apart from him again. He didn't want to believe in their promise and to hear them still looking for him made it all so much more painful and real. They've been searching for him all this time, for 500 years, trying to get back to him, and all he's done is pretend they never existed. How cruel could he be to them? To himself? His body aches with the want of easing this pain.

"I'm sorry," He hears a voice say. He doesn't look up right away, not when the other kneels down next to him to place a hand on his head in a somewhat caring manner.

"He could not stay, not when his soul was bound to me," Vlad tells him quietly. Francois nods his head though he wishes it didn't have to be like so. Whatever attachment that soul has to him, it can not stay while under another reaper's jurisdiction. He has to wait even longer. He waves Vlad's hand off, not wanting anyone near him. The other reapers seem to know this and keep away from him, going back to their own places of rule, and leaving him to wallow in his own self misery until the pull of his job takes him from his spot.

* * *

Francois looks down at the man attached to wires in front of him. They are dead now and their soul is long gone. He twists his scythe in his hand, looking at the small white papery stick in the dead person's hand. He took some people in the past few years with the same condition as this one now. Their lungs gave out due to toxic fumes inside their chest. Francois leans down and plucks the new, unlit cigarette from the dead person's hand. With a puff of air he lights it and sticks it between his teeth. He may not be able to die from smoking, but he wishes he could.

No matter what he did, he couldn't help the agony that churned inside him, wondering just how long that soul has been searching for him. He wonders if it hurts them as much as it hurts him to be alone like this. He shakes his head to rid himself of his thoughts but they stay. He wants them to leave his mind but they will not. He grits his teeth and throws his scythe to the ground in anger.

If that young soul never promised to see him again he wouldn't be like this and neither would they. Why it bothered to subject them both to that kind of misery is beyond him. It hurts too much to think about. He glares up at the sky, wondering if the soul would ever see him again, if they are just messing around playing fun with his heart. What if they saw him now and thought their promise isn't worth keeping. He wraps his arms around himself, and wonders what kind of person would ever want him to love.

* * *

"You can't say that!" Francine glares down at the boy she just pushed away. She wraps her arms protectively around a young girl that the boy had been picking on. She sticks her tongue out at him as he scrambles away from her.

"You okay?" She asks the girl, her nose twisted at an odd angle. The girl nods her head, spilling out questions about how Francine doesn't make fun of her for her face.

"That's silly, you're a good person," She says with a bright smile. The little girl hugs her tightly and Francine giggles. She makes a promise to visit her tomorrow. She would never break a promise, it would hurt too much to bear if she did that.

* * *

The one good thing about not entirely living, is that Francois can smoke as many cigarettes as he wants and not feel the effects of it. He places the death stick to his lips once more, inhaling the smoke to it's full extent because he can. He stares over the city from atop of the Eiffel Tower. It's a beautiful scene and a sick small part of him wishes he could have it with someone else. He sneers at his own intrusive thoughts, dropping his cigarette carelessly to the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out.

He finds himself at the hospital in his next few steps, taking the life of a elderly man and woman who caught the same sickness a little too late in their old life. He looks away when the two smile at each other one last before passing onto the other world.

He doesn't like the fact he still thinks of that soul and what they said to him. Remembering them shakes him to his core because he doesn't think it to be true even now. Having that hope shoved in his face over and over again hurts him inside and he'd rather be alone. A dark part of him wishes they never made that promise in the first place. He would have never had to go through this kind of turmoil as he is now but they did and now it hurts.

He grips his razor blade tight. He doesn't know if he'll ever seen him again or if they will search for forever, but he can't keep holding onto this small hope of not being alone. His view of the world has been twisted since the first moment, he doubts whatever this soul could do would be worth it.

* * *

Francine can feel the pain in her chest heighten. She huffs, trying to stop it from happening but it doesn't work. She calls for help and her best friend comes to her, screaming in their own right and calling for help on their own. She's jostled as an ambulance comes for her, taking her to the hospital to work on her heart again. She doesn't know why they kept trying.

She's brought into the emergency room, doctors crowding around her instantly. She blinks up at them, lurching every so often at the pain that racks her body. Someone is screaming to her but it does not matter. She cries softly, closing her eyes and waiting for her heart to finally fail her.

* * *

Francois will not deny he did try once more to skew the odds so that the woman on the operating table could live just a little longer. He hated seeing young ones die even from the beginning. He looks away, almost ashamed when she dies eventually. He brushes a hand against her arm and walks away without looking behind him. He makes it out of the hospital and leans against the wall, waiting for the soul to find him like they always do.

It takes just a moment, but soon there is a small moth in his face, it circles his head a few times and he sighs, readying his razor to cut the sky when the insect shifts form into the young woman he tried meekly to save for a little while longer. He stares at her and she smiles at him, something sweet and small. He turns his head away and moves to make the cut in the air but the tip snags, signaling the soul still has something to do. She places a hand on his arm.

"Won't you let me keep you company for a little while longer?" She asks and he shrugs her off. He hears her huff and he can't help the roll of his eyes.

"Aren't you lonely?" She asks him and he shakes his head out of habit. He raises an eyebrow when she places her hands on her hips and scolds him like a misbehaving child.

"You're such a liar," She chides him. Francois blinks at her, then begins to walk away. He has no time to deal with temperamental souls. He'll get her to go away when the next soul dies or whenever her attachment passes.

"Hey!" She shouts to him and he groans.

"Go away," He tells her, wanting her to leave him alone. She scoffs and grabs his arm, forcing him to turn around and get a full look at the anger in her eyes.

"Uhm no? Do you know how long it took me to find you? I am never letting you out my sight again mister," She says, a small smirk crossing her face as she talks. Francois's face scrunches up in confusion until the color of her eyes spark recognition in his mind. Tears fill him faster than he can think, pouring out of him with no warning what so ever. He stumbles a little, falling to his knees and covering his face as his sobs shake him to the core. Arms circle around him and a gentle voice in his hair tells him everything is alright. Francois wraps his arms around her, clinging to her like a lifeline.

"Darling I knew I would find you," She tells him and he whimpers against her. She laughs gently, running a hand through his hair.

"I have died so many times," He whispers and she shifts, pulling him even closer than before. He hides his face in her neck and cries.

"It's okay my love, I am here." Francois doesn't know why, but he believes her with everything he has. After 600 years, and he finally knows peace.

* * *

Francois drags his razor through the air, letting the souls flitter through in their tiny moth forms. He swallows the lump in his throat as the rip seals up. He'll never tell her, but he's always scared that whenever he makes the cut that her soul will be taken back too. He's not sure what he would do if he were to be left alone again.

"You've become sweeter to them you know," She whispers in his ear, shifting into the womanly form. He huffs and takes a drag of his cigarette. It's plucked from his teeth and her lips replace the cigarette. He blinks down at her when she pulls back, smirking up to him in a smug fashion. He groans and turns his head away, willing with everything he has to make sure a blush doesn't appear on his face.

"Your fault," He whispers once they are on their way to a new place. She giggles and links their arms together, pulling him close and giving him as much warmth as her spirit body can manages. He leans into the touch a little.

"If it's my fault you don't look as sad as you used to, I take full responsibility," She giggles again and places a quick kiss on his cheek. He glares at the ground at the displays of affection. He's not used to it, having been alone for so long, but slowly, he is becoming more accepting. He glances at her when she starts to hum, a slow song with a bittersweet melody. The wind wavers her hair making her look like angelic. Francois swallows his pride and kisses her cheek quickly. She doesn't let him get away so easily, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He jerks back a little, nearly pushing her away but she holds strong.

"Don't try to get away from me now mister," She teases, rubbing their noses together. He fidgets a little more causing her to laugh.

"I told you I'd love you more than anything, I have to make up for time lost." She smiles at him and his heart pounds. He takes a deep breath and lets her pepper his face with small kisses though he grimaces on the outside.

There's a low whistle and Francois groans in annoyance out loud for all to hear. Francine immediately burst into laughter turning to face the newcomers. Allen stands leaning on the edge of the wall with a smug look on his face. Matt is next to him looking tired and as done as ever. Before anyone else can speak the small butterfly on Allen's shoulder flies off and shifts into the form of a young man.

"I know you!" He shouts and comes closer, ignoring the panicked look Francois gives him and picking him up in a bone crushing hug. Francois tries to glare at Francine when she snorts.

"You helped me get back to Allen," The spirit man explains once Francois manages to push him off. Francine links their arms again, leaning her head against his shoulder simply. He sighs, trying to keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

"Yeah," Is what he says. The spirit laughs and goes back to Allen, hugging him close. Matt gives Francois a quick nod of hello when Francine jumps on him, hanging on to his neck with her arms.

"You helped me get back to Francois!" She yells in Matt's face firmly making the reaper blush deeply. She laughs and kisses his forehead before letting go of his shoulders. She skips back to Francois and kisses his cheek. Now thoroughly confused by the whole situation, Francois feels a tug inside of him. He grabs Francine's hand and nods to the others. They say quick goodbyes before Francois slips away.

"You have nice friends," She says to him. He rolls his eyes. He wouldn't entirely consider them friends. She squeezes his hand tightly and he squeezes back instantly. Maybe with some time he could come to know them. For right now though, he's perfectly content with spending all of his time with her. They do have a lot of years to catch up on. He brings her hand close and kisses back of it, making her swoon happily against him. He pouts, not wanting it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrM-Bkm4c_I) was used as inspiration for this chapter.


	3. Stay the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is precious, and he's determined to make them see.

Vlad isn't sure if he should be afraid of the darkness or not. While empty besides himself, it feels like there is more existence to it. He curls up in on himself and the darkness curls with him, wrapping around his small form tightly in a comforting way that Vlad never thought such a darkness could. He lets it hold him, finding some semblance of friendliness in the gesture. He tries to hold the darkness in his hand, trying to find something tangible to hang onto. Instead his hand gips something much more solid.

His eyes only see black in an everlasting stretch, but soon the object in his hand comes into focus with blinding clarity. The wooden shaft in his hand is long, almost the same height that he is. At the end is a long silver blade, wide and flat, curving down to a sharp point. Vlad pulls it close to his body, hugging it awkwardly as the only solid material he has. He runs a hand over the silver blade, hissing quietly when his finger catches just right to cut.

He jerks and the darkness comes to him, obeying like it was made to do so. It runs over his finger and soon the cut is healed completely. Vlad takes a deep breath and brings his hand back close to his body, muttering out small words of thanks to the void that surrounds him. Maybe it can't hear him, or maybe it can with the way it passes by him, but he feels compelled to be thankful. The darkness is all he knows besides the long handled tool in his arms.

He floats around, existing silently, cohabiting with the nothingness. It's peaceful having the void with him. He's not sure how long he stays there with no words to say, and truthfully the pull scares him. It's sudden, desperate, pleading and his heart lurches to the notion. He spins in a wild circle to try and find the new sensation. Barely his eyes focus on a light in the distance. Something new, something calling to him and him alone.

He blinks with a squint at the light as the darkness gently pushes him towards it. At the last second he takes the step needed to bring him right in front of the thing pulling him. His hands grip his tool tightly when his mind recognizes what caused the pull. Somehow he knows what happened to the being at his feet. He looks around him, finding nothing but the human, half buried in the snow at his feet. The only warmth he feels is the breath in his body.

He kneels down, placing a gentle hand on their expose one. He can feel the human's body warm under him and they smile gently as their small amount of shivering comes to a halt. Vlad feels a cold tear slide down his cheek. The pull stops as a gentle wisp, like snow falling in reverse, comes from the human's body, resting on top of it in a small figure. Vlad blinks at the creature, tilting his head when it does the same. Then the creature scurries in a sharp movement to hide behind it's old body. Vlad stands and bumps into something behind him. He jerks, spinning on his heel, and falling over the body to stare up at the looming figure.

He swallows thickly at the man staring him down with a dark expression on his face. Vlad doesn't know why but he feels compelled to wipe away his tears, not wanting to look more unsightly than he already does. He scrambles to his feet holding his tool in front of him. The man leans his head back, shifting awkwardly in his long black coat. Vlad holds his breath when the man lifts his hands up, only letting out a huffy exhale when the man drops his coat onto Vlad's shoulders.

Vlad blinks wide eyed up at the man, now able to show off the black militaristic uniform that hid behind the coat. He tugs the new material tight to him, relishing in the new warmth. The man takes off his helmet, crunching it between his hands and kneeling down. Vlad isn't sure how he knows, but he holds out his tool slightly, letting the man attach a small point to the top of it. When the deed is done, the man shifts into a new creature, larger, but like the one the human had, and hops off quickly. Vlad reaches a hand out to the retreating form, but no words pass his lips.

He glances down to the human's spirit creature, still hiding. He reaches a hand to the creature now, reeling back when it makes a noise of protest. He flinches, clutching his tool tight. He drops the blade to his feet, swinging it down. In the effort, the air near the blade tip rips open. He stumbles back, breathing heavily, concerned when the spirit animals hops through it easily and unafraid. The rip seals and he's left all alone.

Maybe he stands in the snow for long, maybe he doesn't, but the same kind of pull tugs at his insides. He sniffs, wiping away a new stray tear. With a small tug, he pulls the coat close, morphing it to his body to keep him warmer in the cold that surrounds him. With a small ounce of confidence, Vlad takes a step forward, feeling the darkness come to him in an instant, and move him to somewhere new that needs him in a new way.

* * *

Yuri blows weakly at his fingers, his breath cooling before it can get to them, making his attempt to warm them a failure. He lets out a strangled sob, choking back the noise as quick as he can. His body stops it's shivering, finally giving up on it's efforts to keep him warm. He meekly pulls the blanket around his shoulders tighter.

The whole winter he spent collecting wood and trying to keep warm in his solitary cabin in the woods. His breath fogs as he looks out the window at the continual falling snow, his fire slowly dying out before his eyes. He grits his teeth. For so long he spent preparing for this winter, trying his hardest, and as much as he may not like it, he may not make it through. He sniffles once more, wrapping his arms around himself and bundling up as much as he can. Hoping for as much warmth as he can get before it all ends.

His body is suddenly burning. He gasps harshly and looks up to a figure before him, tall and dark, with a long black cloak. He swallows, hiding a little behind his hands. This is his first time dying. Somewhere in his being he can feel the many lives he can have. His jaw clenches tight and he moves through the rip in the air when it's created. It feels natural to go through, almost giving him a new hope that his next life will be better.

* * *

Vlad stares wide eyed at the sword that splintered the wood just next to his head. It came just close to not only hitting him but the woman just at his feet. She scrambles and runs as fast as she can and Vlad chases after her, as do the rest of the angry villagers. He's not sure what she did, but he's sure she didn't deserve it. He holds tight to his tool as he runs, somehow making her path easier for her to escape through while simultaneously making it harder for those following.

He slows to a stop as he sees her run free, hopping aboard a cart that is passing by, hiding in the back and out of sight of the others. They pass Vlad by, shouting angrily at nothing in particular and each other. Vlad looks at his hands in wonderment. He's never done anything like that before. He felt like he could control the way the sword titled in the man's hand before it struck the girl. Felt like he could change something about the way the outcome may have been.

With a new tug pulling at him, he slips away to the unknown area with the help of the constant darkness. The woman sitting in her chair in front of the fire is slowly losing her life. Vlad stands to the side as she smiles frail to a small child near her feet. He finds himself smiling gently at the scene, the smallest of changes in his natural expression. The child is full of life, bright and bubbling that Vlad can feel. The women lets out a shaky breath and he steps forward, placing a gentle hand on hers. She sighs and goes still, and soon the child starts to cry out. Other family members rush forward as the small spirit creatures appears at Vlad's feet. It looks up at him in fear.

Vlad sighs, and cuts the air simply with his tool, used to the frightened expression he gets from the souls. The creature hops through and the rip seals without a sound. For as long as he can remember, the souls have been scared of him, why he's not entirely sure, but they don't stick around long enough to tell him why. He runs a hand across his neck, brushing against the long cloak over his body. It keeps him slightly warm against the small amount of temperature he can actually feel. He wipes away the silent tear that fell when the woman passed. There's always a tear for them and their passing life.

* * *

Ion balances on his tiptoes, the rope around his neck keeping him just above ground. A forced cough comes from his throat, tearing at it and making it harder to breathe than it already is. There are other's lined up next to him, all struggling to keep balance for the small amount of air they can have. Some have already lost the battle, but Ion refuses to give in.

This war ruined him and his country and the family he may have had and the family that raised him. These troops destroyed everything. Ion musters up a glare to one of the guards, earning him a kick, effectively knocking out his feet. He chokes, thrashing around to gain his balance again. The hanged men next to him are breathing harder now, maybe rooting for him. Ion actually manages to get his toes under him again, catching a quick breath when he's kicked again. This time down for good.

Being able to breathe again is weird. He blinks up at his own body, swinging lifelessly. He shakes his head, his old life coming back in a flurry of cold memories. He glances up at the reaper leaning up against a wall, a small group of snakes at their feet. Ion finds his body, and slithers his way over, waiting for the others to join him before going through the rip the reaper will make.

* * *

Vlad waits at the edge of the room for the husband to die and join his wife in her ethereal form. They had a better love than he's seen. Loyal and loving to each other even though war is looming around the corner and the threat of unnatural death is everywhere. Still the husband managed to make it through for another year even after his wife died in a natural sleep.

The life begins to fade and Vlad makes himself known. He raises a hand to try and placate the woman's starled gasp, gently placing a hand on the husbands to release the soul trapped inside the body. The wisps appear and the husband embraces his wife in a gentle hold. Vlad steps back and makes a subtle rip in the air. The couple hops through together with smiles on their faces. Vlad shakes his head to rid himself of his tears. The life they lead together had been beautiful in his opinion.

He's seen the woman before, he skewed her odds of life, giving her time to not get hit by a passing stampede horse, being saved by the man who she later married. Vlad walks out of their house, his steps taking him to a new place. To him, life is precious and he likes seeing the people live full lives. The humans should be able to experience the best, and he honestly hates it when they can't.

So Vlad skews the odds. He does it as often as he can. His ability to affect change has increased over his years of using it. It's easier now. It makes him happy in a small way, to be able to see someone live longer because of the small chance they could trip backwards instead of forward. The little things he does have the biggest effect in the end.

* * *

Sophia smiles up at the man in front of her a little bashfully. She nods her head, accepting the proposal offered. Though it's not entirely her idea, truth be told her father picked out the man in front of her, accepting him first without her input, this suitor not the worst. He's fairly nice to her, and she hopes with the bruise paining her arm, that he's better than her father. It's a small hope, knowing the suitor can change his personality at the drop of a hat, but she wants to stick through it, and give him a chance.

She allows the man to hold her hands and place a gentle kiss on her cheeks, and she in turn kisses his cheeks back, listening to the proud words her father says, though she knows he's just happy to be rid of her, favoring her older brother. She smiles at him now, him cringing at the idea of her being married, having been the only one to really listen to her when she told about the bruises her father gave her. This marriage will be better, she's determined to see it that way.

* * *

The field of flowers outside the house is one of the most amazing displays Vlad has ever seen. All of the flowers are in bloom and placed in such a wondrous arrangement, he has to stop and stare for a moment, ignoring ever so slightly the pull in his chest. When it becomes too much to bear, he steps into the house, the darkness taking him right to the side of an elderly man who fell just a little too hard. Vlad places a hand on theirs, feeling them relax below his touch. The soul floats out, taking form of the man.

Vlad looks down embarrassed when the man reels back in shock to him, afraid, just like so many of the others. Vlad holds up a hand to quell their fear just a little, hiding his scythe behind his back just in case. The spirit relaxes a little and exits the house. Vlad follows him, watching from the door as the man takes a water bucket and begins to sprinkle the plants with water one last time.

It's a simple moment, but it takes Vlad by surprise almost. The thing to keep the man to this earth is his flowers that he worked hard to make look as lovely as they are. Something so little changed this man for the better. Vlad comes closer, just enough to get the man's attention. He flinches for a moment but then holds out the watering bucket to Vlad. The reaper takes it carefully, watering the plants in front of him like he saw the man do. For once, he can bring life to something.

A slow tear falls down his face and almost jumps when the spirit places a hand on his arm. The spirit smiles warmly to him and shifts into the small creature form. Vlad swings his scythe quickly, letting the soul bounce through. He grips the water bucket tight. He continues with the rest of the flowers the elder man didn't get to, taking his time to make sure they all get enough water. He ignores the pull in his chest for as long as he possibly can, putting the bucket to the ground, and promising to himself to come back.

* * *

"My dear," Sophia whispers softly, holding her husband's hand tight in hers. The man grits his teeth looking down at her on the bed. She musters up a smile, refusing to let the cough wrack her body once more. She shouldn't have lasted this long, to survive with a cold like this for as long as she did is nearly a miracle but she wanted to be with her husband for a little while longer. He made life just a bit more bearable in their harsh conditions, treating her well besides all of her mistakes.

She kisses his hand softly with the remaining strength she has before closing her eyes. She hears him talk gently for a while. Their life hadn't been the best, fighting for food and warmth like the rest, but it had been theirs and some of the greatest time she had in her life, away from her family and the rules. She takes a ragged breath, her throat burning and she coughs hard, her stomach lurches and her air becomes lax. She huffs but nothing comes to her, then the world goes white.

She keeps her eyes closed, not wanting to see the reaper above her, not wanting to see the look on her husband's face. She feels the portal open and flutters through as quick as she can, wanting to get to a new life soon to see and feel something new and better.

* * *

Vlad's grip on his scythe is tight. He's nearly shaking with anger at the sight in front of him. These people make him angry, especially the one on the end, dictating the death of others, and laughing. Never has Vlad seen someone so cruel to other life, so willing to take it away, so enjoying of it all. Vlad's blood boils and he stalks up behind the man, taking his scythe and putting it to the man's neck though he doesn't see it due to being alive.

He waits, carefully finding his chance. Once the signal is given to light the others on fire, Vlad pushes. The human goes through his scythe, cutting off his vitals, and stepping right in the path of the flaming arrow. Vlad watches coldly as the man twitches on the ground, not being able to breathe and the fire searing at his skin from the inside. No one helps the man.

When the spirit is free it hides behind it's body, staring up at Vlad and trembling, and for once Vlad does not care as much. If there is one thing he's learned over the years of seeing death and war, it's that life is precious, and to see it so stripped in an inhumane way, strikes a nerve. He rips the air with more force than necessary, hissing when the spirit bounds through quickly.

His teeth grind together and his anger is on a slow fall. He steps back and falls to a new area, one that the darkness has come to recognize as a place of peace for him. Vlad sits amongst the flowers, wanting to run his fingers over them but not daring to in case he accidentally kills them. For years he's been coming back to water them, keeping them alive despite the death of the man before. It's the one thing that gives him some hope in the beauty of life when he sees something to atrocious for even himself.

* * *

Anastasia takes a deep breath, tears pouring out of her eyes. She holds the knife tight in her hands, every fiber of her being shaking to the core. It's not right for her to be abused in a home like this, some place she should feel safe in. The mistress of the boarding school thought her trouble and gave her harsher punishments than anyone else. No matter how hard she worked, nothing could ever been good enough for the mistress.

She worked to the bone, her feet aching with all the practice she did, but her grace is never enough, her posture never quite right. It hurt to know she could never measure up to the standards placed upon her. She stifles a sob, all the insults firing off in her head that she's heard over the years. In one quick motion, she plunges the knife deep into her chest.

She chokes, blood pooling in her lungs and slowly drowning her from the inside out. She coughs slightly and blood dribbles out of her mouth. She slumps to the floor, twitching slightly, wondering just who might come see her first. She closes her eyes and waits for the pain to dull.

When it does, she's held up by strong arms. She wipes at her eyes, muttering out a soft thank you to her reaper, missing the warmth of the arms she had before. The reaper places a hand on her shoulder and she waves them off, wanting to pass now so she doesn't have to remember what she just went through. The reaper sighs and opens the portal with his axe, and she flies in, hoping for something better.

* * *

He's seen it before, and yet everything about war made him hurt. Vlad wipes away a tear on his face, a scowl permanently settled as his expression. He's standing at the edge of the battle zone, gripping his scythe and trying as hard as he can to reach as many people, to change something, to give them a few extra minutes of life. It's not fair for them all to die. It's not right. He shakes as he feels his power giving out, he doesn't know how much longer he can keep up such a feat.

He stumbles, losing his breath and dropping his scythe in favor of holding his head to keep himself from falling too hard. Screams ring out and he finds himself on his knees, covering his ears, trying to keep the pounding headache from ruining his mind. He shakes as slow tears run down his cheeks. It's not right. The pull inside of him is trying to drag him in every direction, calling for him to move, for him to do something other than sit there but he can't bring himself to see the death around him. He doesn't want to see it.

Only when the screams stop and the so called victors leave does he stumble to his feet. The darkness pushes him, nearly throwing him to those who need him. He touches them quickly, immediately being moved to a new area. The tug inside slowly easing the more he helps souls be released. He blinks his eyes hard, trying to see around the tears with the growing number of dead.

He sits in the abandoned village, surrounded by the spirits, this time not afraid for he sits vulnerable among them. The creatures rub their fuzzy faces on his legs, trying to give him comfort though he feels he doesn't deserve it, not saving as many as he wishes, and then not getting to them soon enough. He grits his teeth, moving his scythe in front of him lazily. The spirits leave him soon enough and Vlad screams to the sky.

No matter how much he helps those in need, or how much he sees it, there is nothing more he hates than the death he brings.

* * *

Viktor stands tall, proud almost, looking at his work. The house in front of him stands strong, good for helping him combat the extensive cold. He built the house all on his own, without the help of anyone else, something people told him he couldn't do, and he smiles now being able to prove them wrong. He begins to pick up his axe and leftover metal fixtures.

A rustling in the woods catches his attention. He freezes, staring now at a bear creeping towards him. Viktor swalows, trying to remember what he's supposed to do in this situation. He begins to back away slowly. The bear growls at him and he pauses again. He glances to the door of his house, taking another step towards it. He moves slow, keeping his eyes trained on the bear who is looking back at him. When he's close enough he dodges inside, trying to closes the door. He's not fast enough.

The bear manages to get a paw inside, growling. Though Viktor tries to push the bear out, his strength is no match for it. He screams out as claws dig into his leg and pulls him out of the house. He thrashes but it's no use. He's only slightly happy the pain ends quickly.

When he opens his eyes, he blinks at the two reapers in front of him. Seeing two in the same place is new. A rip opens and he goes through, trying to forget the pain of the lives before him, not wanting to experience them anymore. It's getting tiring.

* * *

Vlad watches as the soul cries. The young woman has nothing to hold her to the earth, but she is sad, and will not go through the rip. Vlad's scythe will not rip it as long as she does not want to go. He holds out a hand wordlessly to her having a random idea come to him. She flinches away from him and he does his best to not let it show on his face, not that much expression crossed it in the first place. Slowly she takes his hand and he steps back, taking her with him to a special place.

She watches from behind as he waters the plants. The house has been since removed and the town moved away, but the flowers remained, growing wildly with Vlad not being able to tend to them as well as he wishes. He waters them quietly as the soul's sniffles come to a stop.

"Why do you do this?" She asks in a whisper. Vlad glances over his shoulder at her. She scrunches up her face at him.

"They are going to die anyway," She says bitterly. Vlad sighs and puts down the water bucket. He goes to sit next to her.

"But their life now is precious," He remarks. She huffs in annoyance.

"Maybe short, but wonderful," He runs a finger over his scythe blade, letting it glide across the smooth surface. He peeks at her, new tears coming down her cheeks. She stands suddenly, turning to face him.

"I'm ready," She says. Vlad stands and cuts the air for her in one swoop of his tool. She walks through, giving him one quick smile before the rip seals. Vlad looks to the ground, then back to the flowers beside him. The words he said feel heavy on his tongue, cause though human life is short, his is very long, and sometimes he wishes he could wither away like the flowers one day will. He runs a hand through his hair and the darkness comes to him, swirling around his body quickly and disappearing just as soon.

Vlad looks down at himself, the long black cloak he used to wear now slightly altered. The overall sleeves and length are still there, but there are more layers to him now, pants and shirt to accompany the long coat, and gloves. He stretches his fingers out, now warmer than before. He sighs again, stepping away from the flowers to a new area that needs him.

* * *

Something about the cold really bothered Dmitri. He's not entirely sure what it is, but the chill sends shivers down his spine and not just because of the temperature. He pulls his coat tighter around him on the boat as it travels to a new place. He doesn't know where he's going actually, he just hopped a boat the moment he had enough money to get him someplace new. He worked hard to get away from the place he called home. He wants to go somewhere different. Somewhere warm.

The boat rocks uneasily and Dmitri grabs a rope next to him. There is shouting and the rest of the passengers huddle closer to each. Suddenly crew are running about, gripping rope and pushing people this way and that. He can barely see what they are yelling about. When the course of the boat is made clear it will crash into rocks, he jumps into action. He finds the first group struggling with pulling a rope and takes hold, yanking down with all he can muster. The crew shouts and ties the rope down, moving to the next tie of the sail. Dmitri right with them.

The rocks are narrowly missed, the crew patting Dmitri on the back for his help. He smiles, part of him overflowing with happiness at being needed. He helps them untie to the sails from their risky maneuver, standing up just as part of the sail smacks into him. The air is knocked out of his chest as he falls overboard. He struggles in vain to get to the surface, the turbulence of the boat keeping him under, his coat sinking him more. He kicks as hard as he can, not wanting to give up just yet, not after finally finding himself a place. All he receives is water in his lungs.

He gasps harshly when he can breathe again, sitting on top of the water's surface with a reaper in front of him. He cringes and shakes his head to keep away his tears. Again, a life he had is cut short with nothing to show for it. He picks himself up and goes through the rip, almost dreading what is to befall him next.

* * *

The reaper in front of him doesn't speak. Vlad is shocked too much on his own to say words either. He plays with the handle of his scythe, taking in minor things about the other's appearance. Their scythe is the first thing he notices, long like his, but thinner, more delicate looking, with a bird skull on the top. They are too dressed in black, covering their body in a long coat, and silver hair tied behind them with a back ribbon.

Vlad nods his head to them slowly, in acknowledgment or in a way of saying hello, he figures both. The reaper sighs, almost happily, giving him a soft smile in return, and moving their fingers to make shapes like letters. Vlad narrows his eyes at the way of communication, but figures out their name all the same.

"Klaus," He says as gently as he can manage. The reaper nods their head in confirmation. Vlad swallows.

"Are there others, like us?" He tries to hide his nervousness. Klaus is the first other reaper he's seen besides the one he met when he first came to be. He had no idea if more reapers existed, he didn't even think about it until this one moment. Klaus makes a motion like he's laughing, leaning down to place a hand on the human's shoulder, letting the soul come out in the shape of a small creature, like a wolf with a wagging tail. Klaus opens a rip and the soul sprints through happily.

Klaus makes a motion with his hand, something similar to the 'yes' of a nodding head and Vlad releases a breath he didn't know he held. Klaus steps forward and grips his arm gently for a second, smiles, and disappears. Vlad shakes his head to help him get back to himself. The smallest of smiles tugs at his lips. Knowing there are others, knowing he's not alone, makes him feel better about his job and way of exiting than he has in decades.

* * *

He carefully follows after the girl who got picked on. Some rude boys he sent a wicked glare to after she stomped off made her cry. He swoops down, picking up the prettiest flower he can see, and finds her sitting up in a tree though manners suggest she should be doing other wise.

"Hey!" He calls up to her. He hides his smile when she grips the branch she's sitting on tightly to not fall down. He holds his flower up, catching a glimpse of her bright blue eyes and for a moment think he's talking to an angel.

"I don't think you're ugly." He says loudly. At this point, she's probably the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. She wipes at her face to get rid of the tear tracks.

"I don't think I'm ugly either," She shouts back at him. He laughs loudly and raises his flower higher, hoping he's not offending her in anyway.

"I think you're strong," He says. It's true, none of the other girls would stay and fight with the boys for long. He had to admire that kind of strong will. His heart pounds in his chest as she climbs down from the tree, stumbling only a little when she gets to the bottom. He helps her get steady, backing away just in case he's imposing too much. He remembers his manners, holding out the flower he picked for her and smiling when she actually takes it.

"My name is Van," He does a small bow for politeness knowing his mother wouldn't be too proud if he forgot his introduction. She laughs and Van swears this moment is perfect. She curtseys back to him.

"I'm Amelia," She smiles at him. Taking his chances, not knowing when he'd ever have a moment like this again to find a girl who didn't run from his intimidating size and stature he holds out his arm. He can't help the smile on his face as she actually takes it and lets him walk with her back to town.

* * *

Something about the way the child looks up at him makes him stumble back. He drops his scythe to the ground and nearly hides his face in his hands. He's shaking but so is the child. Vlad's eyes are wide, he turns his head sharply down, realizing his expression might be scarier then. It's not like he means to scare the souls, just something about the way his face naturally set makes it frightening to those who just died. Part of him hates it.

He brings a hand to his face, covering it up as he slowly bends down to pick his scythe back up. The child whimpers and a small piece of his heart breaks. He turns his back and slowly makes a rips in the air, walking away from it, still not facing the child. After a few seconds he glances back, seeing the child soul and the rip gone. Again he drops his scythe, not having the energy to hold it up. He hates being scary looking, he doesn't want to be. He cares so much for the souls he helps move on, to see that kind of fright on one of their faces tears him up inside.

* * *

He knows. Amelia doesn't think he knows, but Van figured it out along the way that his wife wouldn't make it through the birth. The doctors tell him exactly what he feared. Part of him, a big part, hates himself for putting her in that position. He puts his head in his hands, listening as her screams start to die down, with the cry of the baby nowhere to be heard. Amelia had been one of the best things in his life, and now, she'll be taken away from him. Maybe their life hadn't been the best, but he loved it all, and he loved her, and somewhere inside, he almost expects the worst.

His head snaps up when her screams begin to echo out again, stronger than before. He shakes in his seat, not knowing what is going on, but seeing the nurses move around in the room. He whispers to himself, muttering out for Amelia to be strong. He disregards any and all manners when a baby's cry rings out. He bursts into the delivery room, going right to Amelia to hold her hand tight as she smiles down at their son, their living son.

The happiness is short lived. Van clings to the baby, his head down on Amelia's shoulder, no longer breathing. Tears come out of his eyes and he doesn't have the energy to wipe them away. He pets the boy as he crys more. He'll be strong for their son, he'll make sure his life is better than anything Van has ever experienced. He can't give up now.

* * *

Not even a reaper can stop nature in it's path. The blizzard froze so many people in their homes, he spent the whole week jumping from place to place, releasing souls to their small creature form and ushering them through the portal, barely having time to shed a tear before the pull wanted him to go somewhere else. Sometimes he doesn't have time to open a rip when the darkness forcefully drags him to a different area. The small spirit rabbits follow him.

When the souls are all gathered outside the last house, Vlad lifts his scythe and lets it fall, creating a large opening for all of the spirits to hop through easily enough, some hopping on each other in their effort to get to a new life. Vlad sniffs and rubs at his nose, hoping them the best. He hangs his head and steps off, commanding the darkness to bring him to the flower patch.

Now overgrown completely, Vlad grips the water bucket tight to him. He wishes he could touch the petals, feel the life beneath them, but he's afraid the death running through him would kill them instantly. Sometimes the souls will grace him with small touches, his only glimpse at feeling the living, feeling the chance to be alive. Nothing like his existence trapped to the dead. He closes his eyes tight, hoping that one day, he can feel more than just the cold metal of the bucket in his hands.

* * *

Van smiles up at his son, now grown into a wonderful young man, far better than Van would ever be. He tried so hard to give his son everything he could, and his hard work paid off. He's never been so proud and so happy at the sight of his son, stable and strong in his life. He takes a shaky breathe, turning his head down, feeling death come to him.

"Van." He recognizes the voice instantly, shooting up and holding Amelia in her spirit form tightly. She laughs like a dream, just like he remembers. She kisses him sweetly on the forehead, telling him to go on ahead without her, that she will wait for their son to pass before passing herself. He nods his head, catching a glimpse of a reaper in the corner looking nervous. The rip is made and Van takes one glance at her, smiling warmly. Even in his next life, he knows he'll miss her.

* * *

Vlad raises an eyebrow to the tiny child attached to Klaus's leg. He knows they are not a soul, the child has no feel of life to him, but he's there all the same. Klaus gets his attention with a wave of his hands, moving his fingers in a specific pattern, trying to convey the message.

"Lutz?" Vlad questions, turning his eyes back down to the boy. Their hair is unruly and curly, a small dagger is attached to their hip over their black covering. Klaus ruffles the boy's hair, earning him a pout. Klaus's own outfit is black and militaristic, his scythe in the style of a sword. Vlad sighs, looking out into the open where the bodies of the souls now passed are still lying. Klaus had been the one to take them with boy running about touching all the animals that didn't clear the area in time.

It almost makes Vlad uneasy, seeing such a small person near death, but Klaus is there for guidance, so maybe it won't be too harsh on the child. Vlad bows his head in politeness, earning a head bow, and a dirty expression in return. He narrows his eyes at the child, making him quickly hide behind Klaus. He sighs and begins to walk away. The darkness doesn't take him anywhere new for awhile, simply letting him be, just for the moment.

* * *

Catherine hates everyone. They all treat her differently, no consistency between any of them. When Sergei bursts into her room she has half a mind to throw her brush at him. She really wishes she did. The suitor whom her father actually denied more often than she did comes at her wildly. She screams of course, clawing her fingers into his face as hard as she can. He pushes at her and she pushes back, not wanting to give into his will.

She refused to marry anyone whom did not deserve her affections, and that will not change now. She hisses and screams louder, hoping to gain the attention of everyone in the town as to what is happening. Sergei pushes just a little too hard, making her stumble back towards the edge of the balcony. She catches herself but is not prepared for the tackle to her that comes next. With one last scream they both go over the edge, landing hard.

When her soul leaves her body she keeps still on the ground not wanting to move for anything. The reaper above her pushes Sergei's soul on without her. When a hand is placed on her shoulder does she finally sit up. She accepts the reaper's soothing touch gratefully. A few more tears slip out of her eyes, wondering when her life will end happily. She waves off the reaper's kind words, becoming the small insect and going through the rip made for her.

* * *

The scythe in his hands stands tall, balanced uneasily in the middle of the battlefield. Vlad stands with his eyes closed in the middle of all the chaos around him, slowly, but surely skewing odds. He can feel another reaper come up behind him, placing their scythe to the ground and doing the same as him, combining their power. He's not sure how many lives they gave a longer chance, but he's happy they tried.

Once the forces retreat Vlad peeks down at the small reaper with a small knife to the ground. They have a surprising amount of white on them, long sleeves, with a black suit vest over that. They stand, barely coming up to Vlad's chin. He turns his head down, not knowing how they will take him.

"I don't like death either," the small reaper laughs uneasily. Vlad inhales sharply, taking in their small smile before they walk away. He wraps his arms around himself, not knowing of many reapers to begin with, but hearing another tries to save lives just as much, makes him hope for the lives of the humans just a little more.

* * *

It hurts, it hurts so much. Nikolai looks out the window as his father comes home from the bar once more, stumbling and nearly falling face first into the dirt. As much as he wishes he could hide, he knows he'll be found, and when he is, the beating will be worse. He's put up with it for as long as he can. Though he knows he's young, he can't take this, not anymore, not since his father murdered his mother. That had been the final straw.

Nikolai goes to the front door, locking it with the feeble lock, giving him some extra time by pushing a chair up to it. He goes to the kitchen and grabs one of his father's bottles somehow still full of liquor. In the trash he rustles for the empty ones. He jerks and nearly drops one when there's a pound at the door. He refuses to open it. Instead he takes the full bottle of alcohol, and distributes it between the empty ones. He rips the table cloth into strips, stuffing them inside the bottles till they reach the liquid at the bottom. He's lighting the first one up when his father finally barges in.

The bottles break and soon the house in flames. Nikolai avoids his father's grabbing hands, breaking one last bottle in his face. The burns etch into his skin, getting nicked with glass and alcohol in the process. He screams loudly, tripping and landing in the fire. He twitches around, soon cooling off when death comes.

The reaper looks down at him, almost impressed by his actions, but Nikolai doesn't care. He's sick to his stomach. He flies through the rip soon, wanting to forget everything, wanting to stop going through this cycle of pain. It's torture to keep living now.

* * *

Vlad's not entirely sure what to do with the soul in front of him. It keeps hopping around in circles, almost like it's searching for something. Vlad runs after it when it finally chooses a direction to sprint in. The rabbit is easy enough to follow, his only unease coming from the knowing of what direction he's headed in. When the rabbit stops just before the flowers Vlad has been taking care of does the rabbit change back into the elder woman.

She turns around, giving him a big smile, something he's unused to, making him grip his scythe tight. She claps her hands together and goes to the flowers, running her fingers over them and smelling each and everyone.

"Thank you," she says softly. He nods his head, though he's not sure why. She comes back to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm quick, then becomes a rabbit once more and running. Vlad doesn't follow this time having finally recognized the look in her eyes. His gaze goes back to the flowers, still living after all these years. Though his job is helpful, he briefly thinks taking care of the plants is the most important thing he's ever done.

* * *

Ivan pushes as hard as he can, being servant to another's angry orders. He and the other serfs till the farm in the worst possible condition. The snow is falling heavily and their clothes are inadequate for the job. It's not long before the others start give up, leaving Ivan the only one with the strength, or insanity, to go on fully. He wants to give up though, a deep part of him no longer thinks it's worth it to keep going. So he stops pushing.

He stands up and faces the master with a dark glare. The other serfs cower under the stares they exchange. Ivan nearly barks out insults when a blunt object hits his head. He falls unceremoniously to the ground, barely able to comprehend someone moving him. He's dragged through the snow, brought to the outskirts of the farm, and left for dead. Just as well, he thinks. He doesn't care anymore. That deep part of him coming back, waiting him to give up finally. Maybe he will. He drops his head to the snow, and cries out the last of his energy.

* * *

He wants to stop it but he can't. There is nothing he can do to stop these people from dragging the limp body out into the snow and leaving them there. There is no one to help the person, there is nothing he can do. Not when they drop their head to the snow and Vlad can feel them giving up. He can feel their will to keep going fade and it kills him a little inside. He goes to the body and places his hand over theirs. They start to cry and Vlad releases a tear for them too, because no one deserves to be treated this way.

The soul is released from the body and comes out in the shape of the man just frozen to death. They curl up in themselves and begin to weep loudly. Vlad, still kneeling in the snow, is at a loss. Sure souls have cried before, but mostly after going to another being. This soul just cries and for some reason, that makes it so much worse.

Vlad glares at the ground near him, noticing finally the amount of little clothing the man is wearing, a thin ripped shirt and pants, barely anything of a scarf around their neck. He slips off his large coat and drops it to their shoulders. Maybe they can't feel the cold anymore, but he needs to do something to get them to feel better.

The soul snaps their head up to face him and Vlad swallows at the unbelievable brightness of their violet eyes. He glances away quickly, not knowing how to maintain eye contact with them.

"Why?" The soul whispers, voice cracking, broken. Vlad grits his teeth, part of him breaking at their sadness.

"Why what?" He counters quietly, managing the courage to look back at them. The soul sputters back up into tears, making their eyes bloodshot.

"Why does it always end in tragedy?" They bark out. They shake and begin to sob again, this time pulling Vlad's offered coat tight, hiding their head as much as they can. Vlad stops breathing. Slowly he reaches out a hand to them, placing it on their shoulder gently. He can see it now, he can feel all the lives, all the pain this one soul has gone through. He sits in the snow next to them, barely touching them, but just enough for the soul to know he is there.

"I am sick of living," The soul mutters out. Vlad looks wide eyed to them. He finds a new kind of hatred in their eyes when they turn their head up. His coat is back in his lap and the soul is walking away from him. He stands and follows quietly.

"Why?" He asks. The soul scoffs, marching in no particular direction. They cast a wicked glare over their shoulder at him but do not respond to that question.

"How long are you going to follow me?" They ask. Vlad narrows his eyes, walking just a bit faster to be next to the soul.

"Until you are ready to pass," He answers plainly. The soul scoffs again, coming upon a small village. There the soul sits in the middle of the town on a small bench.

"I am never going through this again." It's harshly whispered. Vlad doesn't know why he does but he takes a seat next to the soul, resting his scythe up against him. He doesn't say anything to them, just sits next to him. Not until the sun is going down does he ask anything.

"What's your name?" The question feels odd on his tongue. Never has he been able to converse with a soul before. They never gave him the chance.

"Ivan," The soul says unkindly.

"Vlad," The reaper says kindly. He stands when a pull comes to him. He pulls his coat back on, looking down at the soul still sitting there.

"I will be back," Vlad says with a small nod of his head. Ivan doesn't acknowledge the remark, staring off into space as Vlad disappears.

* * *

When Ivan is still sitting in the same spot when he returns a year later, Vlad is instantly worried. Ivan is not waiting for anybody, there is nothing holding the soul to the living world, it is simply refusing to go on. Vlad comes to the bench, taking a seat silently. He holds his scythe across his lap, gripping at the handle instead of focusing on the discomfort in his stomach.

"You came back," Ivan says making Vlad jerk a little. He nods his head. Ivan releases a long sigh.

"I did not think you would," Vlad glances at the soul, now looking down and gripping their hands tight. He's not sure what compels him to do it, but he removes his gloves, taking Ivan's hands in his and slipping the clothing on. He turns back to the snow at his feet as soon as the deed is done. Ivan doesn't say anything either.

"Why here?" Vlad finds himself asking when the sun is setting. Ivan hums softly.

"My sister's children are here," Ivan points to a small child in the distance soon followed by two more children, and a woman. Vlad tilts his head to the side, watching the family interact. Maybe that's why Ivan is still around.

"They are happy," Ivan says. Vlad glances at him, and for a second he sees a smile on the spirit's face. It's gone in a flash, replaced with the tired and lost look of before. Vlad sees something in Ivan's eyes he's never seen before in a soul's eyes. Death. Ivan's eyes are gone, like the life his being is made for has left.

"Are you bound to them?" Vlad asks, sitting up straight, maybe ever so slightly leaning towards Ivan. The spirit shakes his head.

"I am bound to nothing." Vlad's eyes widen, seeing utter defeat etch into Ivan's face. He grits his teeth, wanting to say something, anything, to get this soul to see there can be good things, but he doesn't know the words. So instead he sits quietly with the soul, until it gets dark, until the stars come out, until a pull demands his presence. He stands, nodding his head to Ivan. He begins to walk away when the soul stops him.

"Will you come back?" Ivan's voice breaks as he asks. Vlad faces him. Ivan has his hands held tightly in his lap, the gloves on his fingers keeping them warm.

"I do not want to be alone," Ivan says when Vlad doesn't respond right away. The reaper finds himself going to kneel in front of the soul. He takes Ivan's hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze then stands.

"I will come back," He assures. Ivan turns his head away at that, and Vlad cannot wait any longer. He steps away and leaves Ivan to himself, part of him hoping it's going to be okay.

* * *

Vlad steps out into the clearing of the small town Ivan has dubbed his place of sitting. For nearly 10 years he's been coming back to Ivan after his job, sitting with the soul and saying very little. Sometimes they would walk around, or go to a new place to sit. So when Ivan is not on the little bench or no where near it, Vlad freaks out. He grips his scythe and runs around the village, frantically shouting Ivan's name over and over. He doesn't know where the lost soul has gone, and he's terrified something has happened to him.

He skids to a stop, finding Ivan huddled under a tree and coughing wildly. He rushes to his side, dropping to his knees next to the soul. He grips Ivan's shoulders tight, one of the few moments of contact they've ever had.

"Ivan," Vlad says steadily, trying to get the soul's attention. Ivan's head snaps up to him, frightened but more alive than Vlad has ever seen him.

"Drowning," Ivan spits out, coughing hard once more, and water sputters out of his mouth. He scratches at his throat, trying to stop. Vlad grabs his hands and Ivan then screams, kicking away from him.

"Do not you dare touch me Sergei!" Ivan's voice shifts, taking on a higher pitch, female, and no longer spitting up water. Vlad stares wide eyed at him. Ivan scratches at his arms, then freezes. He lifts his hands out together, then brings them sharply to his chest pantoming another death he experienced and blood starts to pool where his hands thumped against him. He begins to fall but Vlad is next to him faster than humanly possible. He holds Ivan up, tucking his head to his neck and wrapping him tightly in his arms.

"Ivan come back to me," He says evenly as he can though his nerves are shaking. Ivan whimpers, pushing against him, but Vlad refuses to let him go. Not now.

"Your name is Ivan, you died due to freezing," Vlad says, recalling exactly what killed the soul this time around. Ivan shakes violently, then he grips onto Vlad's coat tightly. He sobs loudly into the fabric, digging his finger's into the reaper's back. Vlad tilts his head to Ivan's offering some more comfort to the broken spirit.

"You are in the town of your sisters, you are with me," Vlad goes on, saying obvious statement to bring Ivan back to who he is now. He grits his teeth as the soul continues to cry. He feared something would happen to Ivan if he kept to the world with no substantial holdings. His soul is losing itself.

"I have you, you are safe, you are strong," Vlad goes on. Ivan's cries come to a slow halt. Vlad bends and picks Ivan up, now exhausted from all the energy expended even though the soul has none left to give. He carries the spirit with him, calling the darkness to take him someplace safe.

* * *

The episode is not the last. Ivan has many more, each one a different mixture of the lives he had before, and each one Vlad holds him close, saying words of truth to bring Ivan back to him. Sometimes it takes seconds, sometimes hours, but Vlad does not give up on him. He can't, not when the soul has so clearly given up for itself.

Vlad glances behind him when Ivan makes an appearance in the doorway. He sits down on the steps and watches Vlad as he waters the flowers. A new house has been created near the flower patch, though the owners have died, it has yet to be claimed by someone new, making it their safe haven for just a little while longer. Vlad moves the bucket over the plants, calm in the moment.

He freezes up when he spies Ivan besides him. He watches with his breath held as Ivan kneels down to a small bush of flowers. Ivan reaches out his hands, cupping the flower buds and bringing them closer to his face, taking in their scent. Vlad nearly drops the bucket in his hands.

There is a light in Ivan's eyes that Vlad has not seen. Something different from the pain and panic of an episode, and nothing like the abandoned look of his regular stare. This light is happy, bright, worthwhile. Vlad finds himself staring, not even looking away when Ivan blinks up at him though he does feel heat coming to his cheeks. Ivan stands, smiling at him and taking the water bucket from his hands, and continuing to water the flowers.

Vlad stumbles back out of his way. He watches in awe as Ivan helps bring life to something. All this time Ivan degraded Vlad for caring for plants that will die eventually, yet there he is, giving them a few extra minutes of life. Ivan turns to face him, smiling softly and all Vlad knows is it's one of the most beautiful sights he's ever seen.

* * *

"I hated everything," Ivan whispers. Vlad watches him simply, holding his hand tightly and squeezing back when Ivan does so first.

"They all treated me differently," Ivan closes his eyes tight, shaking softly. It had been Ivan's idea, but Vlad's not so sure about going through with it. The soul suggested talking about his past lives, maybe then he would be able to differentiate between them and this life. So they sat in the house, in front of the fireplace that Ivan got working, and Vlad listened. He had to leave twice for other souls, leaving Ivan to take a moment to himself.

"And then after that.." Ivan trails off, bringing up his legs to hold them to him. Even though he's close already, Vlad scoots closer, pressing them together. Ivan takes this as an invitation to lean his head on Vlad's shoulder. The reaper will not complain.

"Vlad, why do you save lives?" Vlad narrows his eyes at the question. Never has he heard him skewing the odds phrased like that before.

"I think life is precious," He responds. Ivan takes a shaky breath in.

"Even mine?" It's barely a whisper. Vlad glances down at the soul curled up next to him. He squeezes Ivan's hand.

"Every single one of them," Ivan shudders, curling farther into his side and Vlad wraps his arms around him, bringing even the smallest bit of comfort to the soul. It's the least he can do.

* * *

There's an odd warmth about holding Ivan's hand. Though Vlad barely initiates contact, he likes it. He likes the company Ivan brings. He leans his head to Ivan's on the bench they claimed nearly 40 years ago. The soul hums quietly, randomly giggling at nothing, looking more alive than Vlad has ever seen him. Ivan has been helping with the flowers more, the spark of light in his eyes getting brighter with every passing day.

"Vlad," Ivan breaks the lack of words. Vlad angles his head slightly to face him. Ivan takes a deep breath and stands to be in front of him. He takes the white scarf off his neck and wraps it around Vlad. The color shifts when it touches him, not used to the aura of death he gives off.

"Thank you. You will remember me da?" Ivan tilts his head cutely, smiling brightly. Vlad raises an eyebrow to the words.

"I will be back," He says. Vlad doesn't see it coming. Ivan nabs his scythe, swinging it just a little and creating a rip. Vlad shouts his name but Ivan slips through. He puts his hands on the edge of the hole, trying to hold it open but he can't. The starry mass on the other side pushes back at him, stinging his being, knowing he is not living. It seals forcefully on him. He's left staring at an empty space in the snow. He reaches a hand up to grip the scarf tight. His own being and the other side stained it red.

He wraps the article of clothing farther around his neck, believing with all of his being, that Ivan meant what he said. He has not seen that level of life in a long time.

* * *

Vlad lifts his scythe to the base of the dying tree branch, hooking it with the blade, and with a mighty tug he pulls it down, making a loud noise. The person in the snow moans weakly, slowly freezing, but Vlad can feel life being brought back to them as the people on the hill come over, soon shouting for more help. Vlad feels another then. He walks out into the clearing, spotting another reaper leaning up against a tree. He comes closer and the reaper nods lazily to acknowledge him.

"You did nothing," Vlad says plainly and the other shrugs. Their outfit is not fit for the cold of his region, an open shirt provides no warmth. The other reaper puts their razor styled scythe in their pocket. Vlad raises an eyebrow to them and their apathetic look.

"Something besides the weather has made you cold," Vlad has seen that look in their eyes before. There is something dead inside the reaper before him besides their position in existence.

"And?" Vlad doesn't know what to say to that. He sighs and leans up against the tree as well, silently watching the snow fall. Silence is easy, he knows it very well. He also knows the reaper next to him is missing something.

"My name is Vlad, and I hope you find your warmth," Vlad nods his head and steps away to disappear. He really does hope that reaper finds what he's missing. He sighs, feeling the scarf around his neck as he keeps going with his job. What Vlad is missing, he's waiting to come back to him.

* * *

This war is the most devastating he's seen. He tried hard to keep lives put together, but he couldn't handle all the chances. Some died, and he couldn't help them. He places his hand to another body just recently shot. Their soul comes out as the small rabbit, hops to him and transforms to the man.

"Ah," They say. Vlad doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know why they are talking to him in the first place.

"Would you be able to help me before I go?" The soul asks him, taking a step closer. Vlad tries to not glare at the request. As much as he would like to help, he doubts he would do much good. There are other souls to get to. He nods his head though, because it is his job to help the souls be at rest.

"I'm looking for someone, someone like you. They have blonde hair, and look very sad. Do you know one like that?" The soul says. Vlad stares off in the distance. He doesn't know many reapers to begin with. He catches sight of the apathetic reaper, who looks anything but calm, staring straight at the soul in front of him.

"Please, I've been looking for so long," The soul catches his attention again. He understands now exactly what is missing in that reaper's life. His shoulders drop as he faces the soul again, nodding his head.

"I think I know who you are searching for," He says a little sharply. The soul smiles anyway.

"You are looking for a region in the French country," If he recalls correctly, that is where the apathetic reaper is from.

"Thank you, thank you so much," The soul beams and Vlad can't take the look any longer. He swings his scythe up, dragging it down and creating a large rip, letting all the souls out in the open go through. Once they are all through, he walks over to the apathetic reaper, now on the ground and barely weeping.

"I'm sorry," He says. The disheveled reaper doesn't react so Vlad kneels, placing a hand on his head comfortingly as he can.

"He could not stay, not when his soul was bound to me," Vlad tells him quietly. The other nods their head weakly and Vlad removes himself when he's pushed away. He goes back to his job, sending out thoughts that the soul can find it's way. Hoping that maybe Ivan is somewhere searching for him too.

* * *

Watering flowers is much more lonely by himself. Vlad has to stop, afraid his negative thoughts will somehow affect the flowers before him. He holds the bucket tight to his chest, running his fingers over the scarf around his neck. He closes his eyes tight and thinks of the words Ivan told him just before leaving.

Vlad misses him. It is not that hard to tell. He misses the easy silence and the soft words when they do speak. Being with Ivan felt natural. Being with Ivan helped him feel alive for just a moment. He looks to the sky, turning dark in the coming night.

"Come back to me," He whispers for no one to hear but himself, and that makes him feel all the more alone.

* * *

"Come on!" Anastasia shouts. The other firefighters follow her into the building. She pushes her way past the falling boards, searching desperately for the voice she heard in the house. She breathes as slowly as she can, eyes scanning the house for any sign of life. She swears she heard someone.

"Fuck Ana!" She ignores the yells of her second in command Julchen. She hisses into the radio and keeps going, unafraid of the fire around her. Fire is not the worst thing she's ever experienced. Nearly drowning when she was seven and the abusive boyfriend she tossed out years ago, she's not really afraid of anything anymore.

"There!" She says. She pushes her way into the room, hoisting the small child in her arms and sprinting as fast as she can out of the building. Julchen runs right next to her, swearing up a storm. They make it outside just as the building comes falling to the ground.

The boy is out of her arms and back to the parents and Anastasia takes off her helmet. She takes a deep breath of the smokeless air, fumbling for her inhaler. It's in her face soon, handed to her by Julchen.

"Please be careful next time cause-" and Anastasia can't hear anymore. She wobbles, her head getting dizzy. He tries to breathe, tries to get the medication out of the inhaler but it doesn't work. Her lungs close up and she begins to cough. She briefly can hear Julchen screaming for her but it's no use.

She jumps when she can breathe again, spinning her head in circles. Julchen is screaming over her body, trying to pump air into her body but it's no use and she knows that now. It takes a moment, but she remembers the lives before her, especially the one with a tall quiet reaper.

"Where is he?" She's on her feet and in front of the black hooded person instantly. They stare wide eyed at her, blinking comically. She huffs.

"Vlad, where is he?" The reaper makes an 'oh' face and begins to move their fingers rapidly. Anastasia recognizes the pattern of sign language.

"Russia, thank you," She bounces on her heels as the silent reaper makes a rip for her. She crawls through quickly. She has somewhere to be.

* * *

Even after all those years, Vlad still sheds a tear for those who die. He wipes away the one making it's way down his cheek as the mother is finally reunited with the son that left her far too early. They hug tightly, barely looking to Vlad as he swings his scythe in the air for them to go through. When they are gone, he goes walking. The pull doesn't come to him right away and the town he is in has been remodeled and redone. However, the single bench in the middle of the town remains. He takes a seat on it and watches the people walk by.

Even though he had been alone before Ivan came to him, spending all that time with him has left a mark. Vlad runs a finger over his scythe blade. He's not fond of loneliness. He hopes Ivan isn't lonely wherever that soul is. He hopes so much for them, but mostly, he hopes they are happy, and that their light has not died. He wipes away a new tear that comes down.

A pull comes to him and he slips away, finding this death to be peaceful, and unstoppable.

* * *

Anya hums lowly, dusting the shelves of the library with a smile on her face. She runs the place all by herself, having built it up by her own doing. It's her pride and joy, the silence that comes with the books. Her hum slows down as she wishes she could have someone to share the silence with, but that is the least of her worries, barely having any worries at all. She has a stable job and a stable life. She's very happy with the peace she's created for herself.

She takes a deep breath, being done for the day. She locks up the building and makes her way home, wobbling only slightly. She's lived a long time, now old in her age. Her younger years filled with memories of the hospital until age forced her into retirement. Refusing to sit still she vouched and petitioned for the library to be built.

She gets home and sits in the small armchair, curling up and humming once more. Though she may have felt like she's missed something or someone in her life, she loves it. The library is her pride and joy and will go to a good owner. She's happy as she falls asleep, and doesn't expect to wake up.

* * *

The little librarian looks peaceful as she sleep, and Vlad almost feels bad taking her soul away. He places a hand on hers, backing away as her soul exits in the shape of the woman. Vlad watches as her appearance grows younger. Then she looks at him and he pauses. She walks to him with a soft smile on her face.

"I came back," She says and Vlad tenses. She giggles and continues to talk.

"Thank you. You gave me the strength to live that time. But I could not shake off the feeling like something, or someone was missing." She steps closer and Vlad nearly backs away, unsure of what to do in this situation. She giggles again and runs her hand over the scarf around his neck. Tentatively he relaxes, putting his scythe to the side and letting her step closer into his personal space.

"Please let me stay with you. You are as lonely as I was, da?" She looks up at him sweetly. Vlad releases a shaky breath to the violet color of her eyes, the absolute life inside them. He could barely recognize them being used to the dull look of before. He reaches a hand up to her touch her cheek and she leans into the affectionate gesture.

"You want to stay with me?" He whispers out. She hums happily and nods, getting even closer to be pressed up against him.

"I am bound to you, you are what holds me here," She places a hand over the one he has on her cheek. He nods gently, then grips her tight, wrapping his arms around her quickly. She returns the hold just as quick.

"Life is no fun without you," She says and Vlad suppresses his urge to cry. He's overwhelmed, no one has ever wanted to stay with him so much they would come back. He can feel her life beneath his hands. He feels utterly honored, that such life would want to be with him.

"I missed you цветок," He chokes out. She laughs once more, petting his hair.

"Me too цветок, me too."

* * *

"This place feels familiar, but I do not know it," Anya says once they touch ground in the United States. Vlad doesn't respond with words, simply guiding her along by their linked arms to the area they need to be at. She keeps looking around, face twisted up ever so slightly in thought.

"Hey! Thought you'd be here~" Vlad stops their walking, both of them looking over at the punk looking reaper sitting on the edge of a wall, a small butterfly on his shoulder. He hops down from the ledge and the butterfly transforms into the shape of a young man. Vlad feels Anya tense beside him, barely noticing the wide eyed look the spirit man gives her.

"Van?!" He asks incredulously. Anya steps around Vlad, coming closer to the man.

"Amelia?" She asks quietly. Vlad winces as the man screams out happily, enveloping Anya in a giant hug. Anya returns the hold quickly, swinging the man in circles.

"Holy shit it's so nice to see you!" The man says once he's back on his feet. Anya giggles good naturedly and they are lost in conversation, calling each other the names of the selves they knew before. The punk reaper saddles up next to Vlad, a small smirk on his face.

"So, you too huh?" He asks. Vlad tilts his head to the side, enjoying the sweet smile Anya has on her face.

"I suppose so." Anya suddenly turns to them and marches right up to the punk reaper, squeezing him in a hug.

"Thank you for taking care of my Amelia," She says. The other reaper laughs awkwardly as Vlad is squeezed around his middle randomly.

"You made Van so happy!" Vlad practically shakes at the reverberation out of the man's voice. Anya drags him off, explaining briefly that they were married in a past life.

"It's just.. I'm happy I got to see you again," The man, Alfred now, says a little flustered. Anya says the same, linking her arm back with Vlad's. They wave goodbye and the punk and the butterfly leave to go to a new place.

"I'm happy they are in a good place now," Anya leaves her head against his shoulder. Vlad hums in agreement.

"I'm in a good place now." He doesn't seen it coming. She bounces to her toes quick, pecking his cheek gently. Heat goes to his face and she hums happily at his reaction. Vlad glances down at her once they are on their way. He's never felt so alive as he does with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJhZnfke9f0) was used as inspiration.


	4. Wake Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living so long in a cruel world makes sweetness so much more.

Knowing there will be nothing, Matt doesn't want to open his eyes. Even with the emptiness around him, holding him, trying to coax him and tell him silently it will be okay, he refuses. Seeing for himself just how much darkness is truly encasing him is something he doesn't want to see. He knows he can't hide forever, but it doesn't stop him from trying for a little while longer.

A sharp gasp is forced from him when his insides churn. The darkness immediately swirls around him, trying to comfort him in a way only the darkness knows how. He brings his legs up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible when the pull happens again. He turns his head back and forth, searching in the blackness for something, something he knows deep inside that needs him but for what he's not sure.

The darkness guides him and his feet touch solid ground. Having a steady base helps him find direction, turning once more to find a bright light shining in the distance. His step is slow and small, but it doesn't stop the blackness from pushing him forward and right to where he needs to be. The first thing he does is fall, the cold ground beneath his feet not holding him up. He lands with a huff, shaking his head only to set his eyes on the figure in front of him.

They are buried in the frozen water, breathing slowly with their lips tinted blue. Matt feels paralyzed at seeing them and yet can't help reach out his hand to gently touch theirs. Just before he makes contact the person opens their eyes to look at him. It stalls his movement for just a second as they soon close their eyes again and sigh. He touches their hand and the life inside them slips away. Like small stars floating towards the sky, a silver shimmer bundles together above the body, taking form of a small winged creature.

Matt blinks down at the animal, reaching out a hand to touch it out of curiosity when the crunch of footsteps sound out. He lifts his head to the figure in front of him, staring up at them with a blank look on his face though part of him wants to run, the other part being held to his spot by the darkness. There's something about this being in front of him he can sense, a deep rooted power, one that is fading.

The being gestures and he stands, noticing how much taller they are than him. The black furs covering most of their dark skin has flecks of the frozen water in it, gracing the skull masking their face and giving it an eerie glow. They raise their arms to remove the skull of the beast and Matt clenches his teeth to whatever awaits him.

When a long black haired woman looks down at him he looks down ashamed to have thought something monstrous would be hiding. She speaks to him in a language he barely understands. His eyes widen in amazement as she whistles, low and sweet, and the little spirit bird flies right on to her open finger. Matt steps over the body to go closer, a sense of curiosity taking over his mild fear of the stronger being. He tilts his head to the side, jerking only slightly when she takes his hand gently to hold it open. The bird flies right to him.

He holds it close to his chest, trying to protect it from whatever could harm it. The woman kneels down, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He blinks lazily to her when she holds a tool out to him, a wooden stick with a fat square silver piece attached to one end. She guides his hand over the handle, showing him how to move it just right to make the air ripple and tear in the open sky. The bird flies out of his hands and through to the other side, a swirling mass of purple welcoming them. The tear seals and Matt can feel a deep seated emptiness filling him.

He turns to the woman and she offers him a small smile. Carefully she removes part of her furs, wrapping it around Matt tightly. He pulls it close, relishing in the heat. He reaches out a hand to her when she stands and backs away from him. The tool in his hand suddenly feels heavy, not entirely remembering when she let go of it for him to be the one carrying it. He looks up to her and small tear comes to his eyes.

She takes a deep breath and her body dissolves into the tiny spirit creatures, fluttering around Matt in a shimmering display. He reaches out for one and it lands on his hand, nuzzling it softly. It cheeps and looks at his tool expectantly. He grits his teeth. It takes more effort than he thought to raise the tool and drag the sharp end across the sky. In a flourish the animals fly through.

Matt looks down at his hands, one holding the tool and the other holding the furs around him. He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emptiness around him. He thought being in the blackness would be empty, but this wilderness with nothing but him and the lifeless body makes him cold in a way the frozen water has no effect on.

He lets out a huff at the gentle nudge. He opens his eyes to nothing, but feels the darkness. It tries to soothe him and he lets it, not knowing what else to do. It helps him walk, helps him mold the furs to fit him properly, helps him move to a new place when a feeling inside him begs for his attention.

* * *

There is an overwhelming sweetness around her, gentle in all senses. With a giggle she reaches her hands up to her mother, cuddling into her when she is lifted up. She babbles lightly, smiling and reaching for her father when he comes into the room looking worse for wear though she can barely tell. The man comes over and ruffles her hair, kissing the top of her head much to her enjoyment.

"How is my dear Marionette?" Her father says to her cooing. She babbles again in her five year old way, unaware of the turmoil outside and the threat of riots overhead. There are smiles on her parent's faces and bread baking in the oven that she helped make. She's placed back on the floor only for her parents to cuddle around her and listen to her talk about everything and nothing.

Marionette giggles when her father talks to her, telling her about the far away places in the world and how there are so many new things to see. She doesn't believe him sometimes, thinking the thing he tells her to be untrue, but the light in his eyes makes her believe there is more to the world. She laughs and paps his face in her childish way. Even if there is more to the world, all she needs is the love provided in her home.

* * *

The tug in his chest his familiar. Something that reminds him of an old friend that he has never really met. He's grown used to it over the years of existing. He doesn't know how long he has been roaming over the cold lands, helping the souls along, but he feels at peace doing so. He knows deep down it's his purpose, something he was born for. His furs have grown with him, covering him completely to fight the small amount of cold he does feel in the temperature around him.

He shifts them now, looking at a town from the edge of the trees as the people walk about, talking to each other. It's a new place, a new settlement for them in a completely new land. He's not sure how long they will last in the frigid temperatures even he has experienced. Part of him wants to warn them, show them how bad it can get but he has no idea how to prove such a thing. He knows they will not see and he knows they will not hear.

He grips the tool in his hand tightly. He wishes he could change something about the way the air is changing ever so slightly, the smallest of hints to the oncoming storm that will not affect him in the slightest. The people however, now nestled inside their homes, most will freeze during the night unknowingly to how cold the air will go.

He releases a huff of air when a branch falls from the stress of the snow above it. A young boy skitters out of a house to see what happened, taking the branch inside with him. Matt twitches. Something has changed but he does not know what. The thought bugs him.

He follows the darkness when it pulls at him, nudging him to move, and he does. The person before him is on the floor, wrapped in blankets and sleeping. He can feel their energy depleting with every passing second. He places a hand on their arm gently as he can with his calloused hands. The soul flitters up, becoming one of the small creatures he has grown used to. He whistles to it and it hops to his hand. He blinks down at the animal then swing his hand down easily to create a rip.

With a chirp the soul flies through to the other side leaving Matt all by himself. He narrows his eyes and falls back to the town of before. He can see the life of the people, a few of them, having more life in them now. Something has changed. He sits in the frozen water, unmoving as it whips around him, watching and waiting.

Come morning he has made the rounds, not needing the darkness to tell him some of the people are in their last moments. He moves into last house, the one where the boy came out of the day before. He's surprised to find them all alive, maybe just barely, but alive. He glances down at the boy, the one with the most life out of them all, the branch he took inside keeping the fire of theirs just barely alive.

Matt kneels down, reaching out for the child then coiling his hand back when they shift in their sleeping. He stands sharply and backs away. Their lives have energy back to them, he can feel it. He glances down at his tool, shining dimly in the firelight. With a sigh he leaves, but not before casting one last look at the tree that lost a branch. The tree is strong and it should not have lost such a piece of it. With the pull coming from his stomach he slips away.

* * *

Even though it hurts her hand to be pulled roughly Marionette says nothing, keeping up with her parents as much as her strength will allow with the basket over her arm. Something is happening but her parents have yet to tell her. She can feel it though, deep inside that something is wrong and that something bad is happening, and that for her to be a part of it would mean death.

She clenches her teeth tight as they make it to an almost abandoned carriage station. Her father talks to someone, getting frantic and frazzled with her mother right by their side. She squeezes the basket to her when someone pulls on her dress lightly. She blinks down at the small boy at her feet, staring at her basket with a pleading look in his eyes.

Swallowing down her fear she glances to her parents before secretly slipping her hand inside the basket to pull out a small roll of bread. She hands it to the boy discreetly, offering him the smallest of smiles as his eyes light up in happiness. He smiles back for a second then runs off to hide in a corner of the building. Even as her mother scolds her for being too kind, she knows it was the right thing to do.

* * *

Matt has seen death before, but not like this. Most of the time, he manages to get to the one dying just in time for their death to become real, never there when the moment that caused the death to take place. He walks up to the large wooden building, sneaking inside easily though if his body held mass they would sure hear him. His body has grown, larger than he wishes. He is afraid sometimes that the spirit birds will not come to him when he whistles but they always do. The most kindness he is ever shown.

His tool has changed as well, sensing his new girth and shifting to fit him more. The wooden handle now longer and the square blade on the end bigger and thicker for a much stronger purpose. He uses it to push open the door of the room that calls the most to him. Something inside his chest lurches as the young female plunges a knife deep into her chest.

Blood spills out of her and all Matt can do is stare at the sight of her life slowly leaving, wondering what caused her to want to not live anymore. He kneels down and places a hand on her arm, lifting up the spirit when it comes in shape of the woman rather than the little animal itself. He keeps a hand on her to silently ask if she is okay but she waves him off. Not knowing how to handle such a sight, he makes a rip in the air and allows her to fly through.

Once she is gone he looks to her body. Feeling uncoils inside him, a certain kind of sadness. With the feeling worming inside he finds it in him to knock over a vase in the room, calling attention to the house and waking them all up. He leaves before he can hear their cries.

* * *

With a blanket hugged tight to her Marionette skips past the guards as best she can, holding her breath just in case. She makes it across the line of fire, kneeling down to a young girl and boy huddled there. She takes the blanket and unfurls it to wrap them in it. Even thought they have no words to say she can see the gratitude in their eyes. Gently she runs a hand down their faces and sneaks away.

The riots going on have turned her once loving streets into a battlefield, one that she should have never been a part of, but with her parents passing, she had no other choice. Of course she could have ran, but something inside told not to. There were people in need and she couldn't just leave them.

She skids to halt just before a corner and throws herself against the wall. A group of guards are just on the other side. She holds her breath hoping not to get caught when a group of the main protestors appear from another ally way. They do not see the guards. She clenches her eyes tight, sending one last thought to her parents and throwing herself out into the open. She kicks and screams, making a scene to get as much attention on her as possible. She locks eyes with one of the protesters as they make their escape just as the barrel of a gun is put to the back of her head.

Dying does not feel as bad as she thought. Maybe because her death had been quick. She glances up to where the protesters made their escape then to the being next to her. In a black uniform they do not look as scary as she may have thought. She bows her head politely to the reaper and they just stare back, narrowing their eyes slightly, then nod their head stiffly. With a quick fwip of his sword, the reaper makes a tear in the air for her to slip through. She does, with a small passing of 'thank you' leaving her lips just before the rip seals.

* * *

Matt rather likes the cold. It feels more homey than he might have thought in the beginning. With his furs now changed to his body, covering more skin including his feet, the environment seems almost made for him. His feet make the barest of crunching noise in the snow, not fully registering his body, but knowing enough that there is a presence there that they should bend for. The tug has brought him to the middle of nowhere, and now he walks to wait for when the death will happen.

He finds a tree to sit down by, pulling his legs up rest his scythe on. There he watches as a man finishes building a cabin. Matt tilts his head to the side. It is well built, crafted very well with a tool that looks similar to Matt's yet weaker, with a different purpose. He simply turns his head when the bear approaches. There is no way for him to change this and he knows it. The only thing he can do is wait for the bear to leave to complete his job.

The bear wonders off after it has done it primal instinct. Matt stands but pauses when he feels something new. A presence appears that he didn't sense before. This new being approaches the body on the ground, placing a hand on them. Matt waits and when nothing happens he walks closer, curiosity on his own taking over. The closer he gets the more he can see them from underneath his hood, wrapped in furs on their own, and a tool with the same purpose in their hands, though just a little shorter and sharper.

"Oh," Is all he can think to say. This being snaps their head up to look at him, a new expression of judgment coming to their face. They stand up just a hint taller, and here Matt notices their height difference. Maybe he has grown a lot. He rubs the back of his head not knowing what else to do with his hands.

"Where they, one of yours?" He asks plainly. This reaper narrows their eyes for a moment, then sighs to sit by the fallen human. He runs a hand through their hair soothingly.

"Yeah, Viktor," The reaper tells him. Matt takes a seat by this reaper, not seeing any reason to keep standing. He pulls the hood of his furs closer to keep his neck warm.

"My territory though," The words come out quietly and the other reaper sighs. Matt is not sure how he knows, but he could sense the limitations of his territory. He knows there is more to the world, there are more humans than this. He can hear them talking about other places. Other reapers had to exist, but this is his first time actually meeting another one.

"I'm Allen," The other says by way of introduction, trying to smile at Matt though it looks pained. He decides to return the gesture but his face isn't up to it so he lets the trial expression drop. Instead he reaches out for the human, running it down their arm and letting the soul be released. They are bound to him and he can sense their want to go. With a quick movement he opens the air, letting their spirit fly through quickly. He settles into the snow more, the tug inside not needing him just yet.

"Your tool looks familiar," Allen says. Matt blinks at him, not knowing how to handle the direct conversation since he's never actually had one before. With a few awkward twitches he takes his tool and lets it shift back to the natural tomahawk state it originally had.

"She gave it to me," He says lowly. A small spike of sadness flows through him at her passing. Part of him wishes she stayed to keep him safe. The other reaper freezes then shows his own tool, now changing back to a tomahawk nearly the exact same as Matt's.

"Me too," They say. They manage a full smile and allow Matt to hold the tool in his hands, turning them over and inspecting them closer for any differences. The only thing he can tell is the wood they are made from, and the smallest hint in stone tone. He hands back the tool and Allen stands.

"I'm Matt," He manages to say before they completely disappear. Allen looks over his shoulder and waves bye to him before the darkness wraps around him and Matt is left alone. He turns back to the body in front of him, wondering if anyone is going to see it. When he comes to the conclusion that no one will find them. He digs a shallow grave in the snow, rolling their body into it. Somehow he manages to find a flower and place it on the mound, feeling just a little better that he did.

* * *

Matthew puffs up his cheeks in a pout. There's a small boy getting picked on and he can't figure out why. He marches right over the bullies, putting his hands on his hips and lecturing like his mother does. He stands in front of the poor boy getting beat on, trying meekly to protect him. The bullies sneer but back off quickly with a sudden panic. Matthew huffs smugly and turns only to jump out of his skin.

The boy he was protecting is scooped up in someone else's arms, tall and older, staring down at him like Matthew is the weird one even though his hair is white. Matthew shuffles his feet, trying to make himself seem smaller. Suddenly the tall one cackles.

"Thank you for protecting my brother," they say, jostling the boy in their arms. The small one peeks up, scratching at his blonde hair. Matthew smiles brightly and waves to them as they walk away. The blonde boy doesn't take his eyes off Matthew, waving just slightly before they get to far to not be seen. Even though his mother told him to keep to his business, helping the boy felt too right.

* * *

Matt has learned about the change. He knows he can somehow affect what may come. That doesn't mean he likes the ability to do so. It feels like cheating in a way, to change someone else's life but not others, who is he to dictate who lives and who does not? Still it does not stop him from giving into the pull of his heartstrings. It's only a few seconds, but the son gets to his father just in time to see him alive one last time.

The change comes even when he doesn't wish it to. He doesn't act on his feelings, but the subtle tightness in his grip around his tool makes the world bend to his will. For better or for worse. He does not know the souls, he does not know if they deserve to live or not, he does not know their life well enough to make a decision like that. So he tries to refrain from doing soon.

The father finally passes and Matt places a hand on their arm to let their soul out. He keeps to the shadows as the man pets his boy's hair, calming in a way that the boy will never know again. They turn to Matt with a sad smile on their face.

"Thank you," He says. Matt turns his head away, unsure how to respond. He pulls his furs closer and swings his tool down for the soul to pass peacefully. When they are gone Matt looks to the boy, crying softly by himself. He tentatively reaches out a hand but the boy flinches when he gets to close, not seeing Matt but sensing him. Matt jerks back and slams himself into the wall. His chest clenches up and he leaves, tugging his hood over his face. He closes off his feelings, not wanting them to build inside him.

* * *

"But if we did this!" Matthew erases part of the drawing, redoing it to make the design sleeker and more efficient in his mind. Once he's finished he moves the paper over to show Ludwig next to him. The blonde picks up the paper a small smile on their face. They look over the drawing and Matthew waits in anticipation before Ludwig sighs and puts the paper down.

"It'll work," He says and Matthew cheers softly. The two set to work on crafting, moving the pieces they have collected to the right spots and putting them together. The two work in tandem, near silently with each other. They've been partners in work for a few years now, finding the other to reasonable among the others. Matthew keeps secret to himself that he's met Ludwig before even though the other doesn't remember. He does, and so does Ludwig's older brother.

They work well into the night, falling to the ground when their masterpiece is half way finished and staring a their project happily. Matthew bumps Ludwig playfully getting the other to let out one of his rare smiles.

* * *

Matt hears the scream first. He walks quicker admittedly into the house to see what is going on. His blood boils at the sight. He grips his tool tight and the man stops assaulting the woman below him, but Matt knows it's too late. All he can do is trip the man as he leaves, making him drop his belongings to be identified later. Matt places a hand to the woman's arm, watching as her soul flies immediately outside in the form of a small bird. He takes his time going outside, finding the woman, now in human form, crying to herself. She jumps when she turns her head up and Matt flinches at the reaction.

"Sorry," He mumbles. She steps up to him and Matt lets her into his space. Not many souls have the courage to face him directly. He simply watches her as she removes his hood from his face, clenching his jaw tight when she looks at him sadly. Some warm feeling races through him when she smiles fondly.

"You should not cover your face so much, how can you see?" She teases. Matt turns his head away at that. He barely talks to anyone besides the reaper down south. He's not used to such interactions, and kind ones at that.

"Do you know another reaper? Perhaps a blonde one? Kind of sad as well," The soul walks into the woods and away from him though still talking. Matt follows her blindly, part of him wanting to feel more of her warmth but knows he shouldn't. He shakes his head to her question.

"There is another reaper I know, who knows more, maybe he can help," He informs her though. Allen he knows interacts with others more than he does. He tells her how to get to that territory. She laughs and for what he's not sure. She comes close to him again and tilts his head down sweetly to kiss the top of it. He relishes in the quick soft moment. He knows his cheeks heat up at the action, waving back uneasily as she continues to walk away, not bothering to follow anymore. He swallows down his feelings, a small coldness swirling inside his stomach that is soon replaced by the pull, demanding he keep moving.

* * *

All in all it's an accident. Matthew tries his best to keep breathing but the weight on him is too much. He grimaces as he can feel his ribs cracking under the pressure of the metal on top of him. Ludwig is screaming out to others but it's too late and Matthew knows it. He lets out one final gasp as the weight finally breaks down.

Breathing is almost weird. Matthew sits on the ground, blinking wide eyed at his own body, crushed under the project he and Ludwig worked so hard on to complete. His partner is still screaming, still trying to help Matthew and he almost smiles. The friendship he gained with Ludwig is one of the best things he's ever experienced. He sighs and looks to the reaper next to him.

The wave their hand, moving their fingers in a way Matthew doesn't know what to do with. They laugh silently hold a hand out to him which Matthew takes. They walk out of the factory together, Matthew eyeing the dark uniform they wear. They smile to Matthew and fwip their sword through the air for him to pass through to the other side. He smiles to them, wondering if he will ever see them again.

* * *

It hurts deep inside to see the death around him. There's nothing he can really do to change this part of life, but he wishes there were people in the world that had kindness, that didn't kill for the fun of it. Matt releases the last of the souls of the people around him. The small birds flutter around him, some landing on his shoulders and others just tweeting by his head. He holds out a hand and one of them flies to it, nuzzling into his palm. It always seems that it is the good ones that die too soon and he wishes it would be the other way around.

None of them deserved this pain and yet it happened anyway. He swings his tool violently through the air, letting the birds flap and tweet and make their way towards a better life. He wishes better for them. This life they lived here is not a happy one. He wishes better for them, he wants them to be kind and live loving lives. He turns his head down as the tear seals, pushing down the want to have a loving life too.

He puts his arms around himself and his furs change. They ripple around his skin, no longer entirely furs, but sturdier clothing. His feet are covered by thicker fabric, and a long sleeved cloak covers his body, the inside lined with the furs he knows so well. He reaches his hand back and pulls the hood over his head comfortingly. With a deep breath he walks on, slipping into the darkness when it needs him.

* * *

Michael carefully steps on the ice, sticking his tongue out as he walks across the frozen water. It's dangerous and he knows it. It's not deep enough in winter for the ice to be stable enough to hold him up. His eyes flicker up to the ball he and Nicholas were tossing around before it fell out of their hands and onto the lake's frozen top. Michael bites his lips and takes on more step before slipping back.

He shakes his head at the large crack now in front of him where he would have stepped if not for slipping. He shifts to his knees and reaches the ball now floating in the frigid water. He smiles over his shoulder at Nicholas on the shore and begins to make his way back.

"Michael you idiot!" His friend shouts. He just shrugs in response. Nicholas's father appears from over a hill and they race each other back to the house for food. It's cozy inside, laughing with his best friend and family. He visits as often as possible, knowing Nicholas has little, if any at all, other friends. He refuses to let him be lonely, even if it means trekking through the snow to see him.

* * *

It's hard for Matt to breathe. The wreckage is massive. Bodies are scattered all over the water, freezing and frozen and dying. He walks calmly over the water though his mind is anything but. He knows deep inside these people are not bad, they did nothing to deserve such a cruel death. He grits his teeth, grimacing as he sinks through the deathly cold water with the darkness helping him along.

He walks through the hallways of the sunken ship, finding those that did not make it out. Their spirits fly through the water and up for air. Matt bangs his head to the side, letting the frozen metal somehow cool down his temper. It's not fair and yet there is nothing he can do. Nothing but help them onto their new life. Try as he might, there are too many to properly skew the odds to save them all. He can only close his eyes tight as lives are lost. They did not deserve this, and Matt feels colder than normal.

* * *

Michael holds tight to his weapon, the battle raging over his head. He jerks upright to shoot from behind a tree, the gun sending vibrations through his arms. He closes his eyes tight and goes back to hiding. He hates this war, he hates fighting. Never before he wanted to be involved in this kind of bloodshed. It's never been like him to want to fight. It feels like rocks in his stomach.

He inhales sharply at seeing Nicholas from the field, narrowly missing getting shot. With a few deep breaths he begins to make his way over to his friend. One last time he has to let Nicholas he is there for him. He doesn't make it. A shot rips through his side, making him crumple to the ground. He curls in on himself as it will help but it does not.

Instead he sits up to come face to face with a reaper in a black jacket. They give him a small smirk and he manages to smile back knowingly. He waits with the others, fluttering about and waiting. A large rip is made for them all. With hopes for the future he slips through.

* * *

Matt walks through the battlefield where the people lay dead or dying, every so often leaning down to help a soul find peace. It's painful in a way to see such hatred spreading. He sees no reason to fight and yet it is everywhere. This is not the first battle has seen, but it still puts twists in his stomach. He kicks a small rock in his path angrily, wondering why the world just can't stop for once.

He jerks slightly when Allen comes over to him in a new black jacket. He thought he felt Allen on the field earlier but he couldn't have been too sure. There had been to much life and death going on around him, paying attention to the feel of another reaper had been in the back of his mind. His sense became overloaded with it all.

He and Allen walk together in silence for some time, ignoring the lifelessness around them, to try and remember there are better things in the world. Soon though Matt feels a pull and he nearly sighs in exhaustion. There is so much happening. He wishes it could all slow down and take time to find some sort of happiness. Instead he's pulled away and he doesn't dwell for as long as he can manage. The lingering feeling of wanting something slow and sweet in his life remains.

* * *

She's shoved roughly into the wall, whimpering and sliding down. She barely manages to muster up a glare to the people in front of her who seemed to have no idea she was even there. With a sniff she moves to pull herself up when a hand is put in her face. She blinks up at the girl in front of her, glaring to the side like she's not helping. She smiles softly and allows her to pull her up. The new girl shuffles awkwardly, giving her the smallest of smiles and walking away.

With her books held tight to her chest she goes to class, keeping her eyes open for the foul faced girl from before. She can't help the smile on her face when she realizes they are in the same class, sitting by her instantly. Even if they sneer and turn away, Maxine promises to herself to be nice to her to return the kindness she was showed.

* * *

"All I'm saying, is maybe it's not supposed to be eaten." Matt rolls his eyes and groans at the words coming from Allen. The other reaper is laying in grass while Matt taps the sap and syrup collectors the people have attached to the trees. Sometimes the process of eating the substance has caused some to die, but not nearly as much as other things. He makes sure they are all done right for the humans.

"How are you holding up?" The question leaves his lips unchecked. He glances over at Allen, watching his face twist up into pain. Just recently Allen has told him about a soul that promised to come back to him, to be with him later on. He's not sure how to handle that, but apparently the two had spent years together. It's taking it's toll on Allen.

"I could be worse," The scrappy reaper says. Matt leans into a tree and nods his head in understanding, peeking up at Allen now with a shit eating grin on his face.

"I could be dead," Matt takes his axe shaped scythe and throws it at him carelessly. Allen dodges it easily, not that Matt really tried to aim. The blade sticks out of the dirt and Allen cackles.

"You little shit," Matt tells him, walking over and yanking his scythe up. Allen shakes his head, his smile slipping just enough for Matt to notice.

"I'm okay," The other says softly. Matt sighs, not knowing how much pain it must be to be alone after all the time of having someone there. He awkwardly places a hand on Allen's shoulder to comfort him in a wordless fashion and walks away from him. Darkness swirls around him and takes him somewhere new. Part of him in envious. Such a promise and such a sweetness to want to go back to someone, is a devotion Matt has never known and never hopes to experience. All he can do is hope for that soul to find it's home back with Allen.

* * *

Posing is easy, Maxine does it with her eyes closed and her arms positioned in the proper way for Katarina to draw her. It took a year at least to get the other to open up to her, but their friendship is unbreakable in her opinion. She's never felt so fiercely protected before. She shifts when directed, smiling and laughing when Katarina begins to swear at her artwork.

"I'll make you sweets once we finish," She offers. Katarina looks up at her bug eyed and a smile comes to her face, the idea of Maxine's baking very welcoming. They manage to get through the drawing much smoother after and Maxine bakes her all kinds of sweet things, complimenting the sketch that Katarina managed to do. Her best friend may be crass but she wouldn't give up on their friendship for anything.

* * *

Another war and another pain in his being. He clenches his jaw tight as he moves his hands over the bodies, collecting souls to take to the skies and wait for the others to be ready. He plays with his tool, twisting it back and forth in his hands like he can change something now. These people are young, they had so much life left to live and yet it came to an end because they could not get along. The cruelty tears him up.

He looks up lazily when he hears Allen call his name. The scrappy reaper comes to him, nodding his head and guiding Matt to another. This new reaper is in a black uniform, looking bored and unimpressed with all the death as if he's seen too much of it already. Matt just nods his head when Allen makes introduction, not finding the need to do anything else.

The three of them look out into the body of water that borders parts of Allen's territory, watching the waves make a mess of the shore. A deep seated part of Matt wishes to walk into the water and leave this land. He doesn't want to see any more death. He doesn't want to become as desolate as Francois. He knows he can't escape and so he hopes silently, for some sort of kindness. He glances over at Allen, a single tear running down his face and Matt knows what he's thinking about.

The world is cruel. Maybe one day he can find a kindness that lasts.

* * *

Maxine grips her chest tight, the pain of not being able to breath making her lungs scream. Tears flow from her eyes and she scrambles to try and reach Katarina. She doesn't make it to the living room, collapsing in the hallway. She convulses and finally Katarina is in front of her, screaming and crying out for her to breathe again. Maxine manages to smile one last time at her.

She clings to the small reaper that helps her up, taking a moment to remember to breathe again. This is not the first time she's died from not being able to breathe. The soul memory making it hard to do so again. The reaper in front of her smiles cheerfully, making sure she's okay. When she nods and tells him she is they clap happily, making a rip with a butter knife. She sighs and slips through, casting one last sad look back at Katarina and hoping she can find some way to be happy without her.

* * *

The grimace on his face is unavoidable. It's one thing seeing someone die, it's another entirely to see a child, who has so much happiness and light in them, dying in front of their parents who gave everything to keep them alive. Matt did skew the odds for this. He couldn't help it and yet nothing he did helped. So he turns his head to the side as the human dies, barely looking when he allows the soul to be released from the body. He backs away from the bed. The soul scrambles to sit up and then runs straight into him.

Matt shudders, wondering if her hurt the pour soul when his outfit changes right then and there. He mindlessly fingers the jeans on his legs, finding one of his hands slipping into the front pocket of a large black hoodie. It's comfortable, the inside lined with furs from old. The hood on his head blocks his vision but he can see the boy back away from him, not yet remembering who he is.

"Relax," Matt tells him. Soon the soul does, taking a deep breath.

"Hi," They say. Matt tilts his head to the slight sadness in their tone. He holds out his hand for the young soul to take and they do, letting Matt guide him outside and away from the cries of the people in the hospital room. Even if the soul has had other lives, children should not be exposed to such anguish.

"Do you know Allen?" The question makes Matt stop short. He angles his head down to look at the boy with his bright blue eyes looking up at Matt expectantly. Matt kneels down to him so he can face the boy directly. The soul stares right back unafraid of him and Matt makes the connection.

"I'm kind of glad you're not him, I'm a kid, and this'd be awkward," The boy says. Despite his grumpy face, Matt smiles at him. A small wiggle of happiness come from inside of him. After all this time, this soul is still searching. He's briefly reminded of a soul from before. There's still hope.

"You're looking for the United States." He informs the soul. They smile brightly and bounce in their spot. Matt makes the rip, waving to them, sending them all the luck he can mange that they find their way.

* * *

Madeline is writing, singing to herself as her pencil makes marks on the paper. It's a small poem, a word her father taught her just the other day. She plans to use it often, letting words flow about anything and everything around her. All the nice things she sees and all the happy moments that happen during the day. She giggles at the thought of the dog that nearly tackled her father, laughing the whole time.

She snaps her head up to the sound of voices. She puffs up her cheeks and puts her journal down, marching over to the small crowd. In the center is a girl covering her silver haired head with her hands while another boy kicks dirt at her. Madeline twists her nose up and pushes through to shove the boy away.

"Don't do that!" She shouts at him. He scoffs and throws dirt in her face. Her lungs turn to fire. She coughs violently and crumples to the ground. The girl from before shouts something and chases off the others with vigor. Madeline cries weakly for her father and soon she's scooped up.

When she wakes she's in the hospital, her parents explaining things to her with big words she doesn't yet understand. Her mind can't comprehend them. It makes her scared, especially when they mention the same condition her older brother had. Madeline has never met him. The building is too big. The only thing small is her, and the small girl from before, covered in dirt and waiting in the corner of the room to be noticed. Madeline smiles brightly at her when she does notice. The dirty girl smirks wickedly and comes over to her.

Her father tells Madeline that this young girl chased off the other kids, calling for help as loud as she could. Madeline thanks her many times. To that the girl just shakes her head.

"You started it," She says with a missing tooth. Madeline giggles, waving goodbye when the girl promises to visit her again.

* * *

Matt breathes a sigh of relief, looking at the little girl in the hospital bed. Her lungs almost couldn't handle the amount of dirt that entered them. He managed to skew her odds admittedly enough to make it so not as much dirt could enter. He couldn't bare to see the parents lose another child. The other girl, the one covered in dirt, helped enough. He backs away from the scene, flinching ever so slightly when the girl in the bed snaps her eyes up to him when they finally open. He stares back at her but her attention is quickly stolen by her parents.

He swivels around the doorway and presses his back to the wall, shaking his head in disbelief. What he's thinking is impossible and he won't entertain the thought. He stays out there long enough for the dirtied girl to leave. He follows her home to make sure she gets there okay.

* * *

"Come oooon," Maria begs. Madeline laughs lightly, shaking her head. She closes up the laptop on her legs to place it to the side. Maria pouts but cuddles into her chest instead.

"You've read to me beforeeee," Her best friend whines, nuzzling into her chest carefully. Madeline sighs, running hand through her messy hair that never seems to be clean. Of course she's read to her before, but this is different. This is her story, this is their story. It's not ready either. Madeline takes a deep breath and instantly Maria jolts up string wide eyed at her in panic. Madeline rolls her eyes to the concern.

"I'm fine," She reassures from the hospital bed. Maria narrows her eyes but resumes her cuddles. This is the 6th hospital visit Madeline has had. Her lungs are not strong enough to support her for very long. Maria has visited her for every one, spouting out random ideas that Madeline has written down. Every single one of them, locked away and waiting to be worked on.

"Hey Maddie?" Maria asks suddenly. Madeline hums, typing away on the keyboard, her laptop strategically placed on Maria's back. She shifts when her best friend does to look up at her and level her with a rare serious expression.

"What would you do if I was in love with you?" Madeline's eyes widen. She scans Maria's face for any kind of joke but finding none. Her faces puffs up in the softest of blushes.

"I would.." She starts but she has no words to complete her sentence. She simply lets her eyes flutter close when Maria leans forward to kiss her gently.

* * *

The wind rustles Matt's hair, long and choppy from the lack of maintenance he has done on it. A black ribbon holds it back, but other than that, it flows freely. He glances over when he hears footsteps approaching. He rolls his eyes to the tell tale smirk on Allens' face but his action is stopped at seeing the small spirit butterfly on his shoulder. Before Matt can question it changes to the form of a bright blue eyed man.

"So you're Matt?" He asks. Matt raises an eyebrow, looking between Allen and this soul in confusion. Suddenly he's wrapped in a bone crushing hug.

"Thank you for helping me get back to him," The soul says. Matt furrows his brows even more when the color of their eyes registers.

"Your- you're welcome," he manages to say. The soul laughs lightly and goes back to Allen, fluttering back to his shoulder. Allen mock salutes him and disappears. Matt stares at the spot they left. The smallest of smiles makes it to his face. After all this time, they could be happy. He watches the birds in the trees, whistling to them until a pull comes, demanding him like every other time before. The hope of good in the world is slowly coming with the changes.

* * *

Madeline can't breathe. She's lucky she's already in the hospital when they tell her. Tears run down her cheeks, shaking her head, disbelieving to the words the doctors tell her.

"She's in intensive care, we don't think she'll make it," Madeline curls in on her self as best she can in the hospital bed. Stupid Maria. Madeline always told her to drive carefully. Told her not to get too excited when her book came out. Her wonderful stupid Maria didn't listen. Her lung begins to close off and she doesn't know why she's crying anymore. Her eyes go black.

* * *

Matt can feel his chest tighten at the sight. The woman is crying in such agony. He makes sure all the equipment is working exceptionally well. The doctors get to her in time to make sure the heart monitor keeps beeping on. He shakes in his spot. He didn't mean to interrupt the breaking of bad news. The amount of hurt on her face tore him up inside.

A small pull directs him out of her room and down the hall. He flinches at seeing the body on the operating table. He closes his eyes and makes the pain less for the soul before it's time. This is the one she is crying over. When their life finally diminishes and the machine flatlines he leaves. It hurts somehow that such a thing would happen to someone.

"Hey!" The loud shout steals his attention. He turns to see who made the noise only to come face to face with the soul from the operating table. His eyes go wide and fumbles back, holding his axe tight to his chest. The soul laughs loudly.

"Dude relax," She says and walks backwards away from him easily. He blinks and follows after her, curiosity taking over. He follows her all the way back to the room of the crying one.

"Oh babe don't do that you're gunna make yourself sick," The soul says to the living one, sitting on the bed and playing with her hair while the machine hooked up to her forces her lungs to work.

"She always had a way of overworking," The soul says, glancing up at him. Matt isn't sure what compels him to do so, but he moves forward to sit on the floor near them. He's never been this welcome to sweet moments before. It's tender the way the soul runs her fingers through the living one's hair like she can still feel.

"You got a sweetheart?" The soul asks him. Matt shakes his head slowly and sadly. The soul scoffs.

"She'd probably love you," That sends a jolt through Matt. He never thought himself worthy of that kindness. The soul laughs wildly then.

"I'm Maria by the way," She winks and holds out her hand to him. Matt shakes it gently, ignoring the small blush on his face.

"You should come by and hang out sometimes," Maria says, crossing her legs under her, keeping one spiritual hand on the other. Matt shrugs his shoulders and stands. When he's stable the one on the bed snaps her eyes open, gasping ever so lightly. Matt freezes when her eyes land on him. Maria narrows her eyes, glancing between the two of them.

"Hey love can you see him?" She asks even though the one alive can't hear her. Matt stares wide eyed. The living one shakes her head as if in disbelief, new tears falling from her eyes. Matt backs away.

"Come by later reaper dude!" Maria cheers, waving hazardously from her spot on the bed. Matt finds himself nodding his head.

* * *

Maddie stares at her computer, her hands over the keyboard and her mind blank. It's been just a few years since Maria's death and it still tears her up inside. She misses her wife more than anything but she tries. She tries so hard to be okay. It's what she knows Maria would have wanted. With one more deep breath her fingers move over the keyboard, wild and making spelling mistakes but she finally hits autopilot.

When she finally comes a hard spot, she looks out the window, the sun setting in the distance. It's been so long since she's just done writing. Every time she's tried she couldn't get out the first word. Her thoughts traced back to the days Maria would sit on her bed side and spew ideas. This story is now vastly different. It's not _their_ story. It's just Madeline's.

Her head snaps up when she feels someone else in the room. Her eyes scan the walls but she sees nothing, but the feeling isn't killed. This isn't the first tie she's felt another presence. It appears sporadically.

"Hello?" She calls out softly. She wraps her arms around herself, wondering if she truly is crazy for almost expecting an answer. She looks back down to her computer.

"I'm losing it," The words come sadly. She raises a hand to rub away the tears that want to come down when she feels a presence come closer. She jerks. Nothing is there with her but her computer.

"Hello?" She asks again. A startled gasp escapes her when the lamp on the table next to her rattles in it's spot. Her breathing comes quickly and she tries to get it under control. She doesn't need another attack right now.

"Are you here to keep me company?" Her eyes watch the lamp for movement, jerking again when it shakes. The smallest of smiles come to her face.

"You're not Maria are you? She'd have knocked the lamp over by now," Madeline runs a hand through her hair, playing with the ends of it. She sighs and goes back to her computer, typing on it slowly with her momentum lessened. She almost thinks the presence leaves when she feels a weight by her feet. There is no indent in the blankets to show someone sitting there but Maddie can feel them.

"Thank you for visiting me," She tells the empty room. Just a few minutes later the presence disappears, suddenly, and it nearly leaves her breathless.

* * *

Matt rolls his eyes to what Allen is saying to him, his little spirit butterfly on his shoulder, flapping it's wings happily. They're waiting for a soul to pass, the territory line blurred. He pushes Allen roughly, when he spots Francois in the distance, someone else with him. Allen whistles for all to hear when the soul places many kisses to Francois's face. They look over, the woman soul dragging Francois over though he looks like he wishes they could just go. Not that Matt was going to say anything, but before anyone else can, Alfred, Allen's butterfly, flies off his shoulder and turns back into his human form.

"I know you!" He shouts and picks up Francois in a hug. The spirit woman snorts at the action. Allen walks closer and Matt decides to follow as Alfred explains how he knows Francois.

"Yeah." Is what Francois says. Alfred laughs and goes back to hug Allen now. Matt nods his head to Francois in greeting when arms latch around his neck and pull him down ever so slightly. Her barely manages to hold them both up, staring at the spirit woman wide eyed as she smiles at him.

"You helped me get back to Francois!" She yells, somewhat sweetly, in his face. Matt can feel a heat rising to his face. He doesn't have the words to give an answer. Luckily she doesn't need one, just kisses his forehead and letting go to walk back to Francois. He waves bye in a daze to them as they leave. Staring at the ground with a twist in his expression.

"She was nice," Allen muses next to him. Matt shrugs his shoulders, turning a sharp glare to Allen when he elbows him playfully.

"She kisssed youuuu~" He teases. Matt lazily swings his axe over his head in a small warning. All Allen does is cackle and start to walk away with Alfred holding his hand. Matt watches them go then subconsciously looks to his own hand. He clenches it tight and makes the darkness take him.

He's been secretly, not that he'd have anyone to tell, visiting Madeline. Maria has told him all about her since he started coming. The wild soul had been absolutely ecstatic to see him again and even more so when Madeline started talking aloud to him as if he could answer back. It had been her idea to shake the lamp that first time.

He enters the room easily and both pair of eyes snap up to him. He hides a little in his hood but Maria cackles.

"Hello again," Madeline says gently, still tapping on her computer. Matt takes a seat at the edge of the bed and Maria moves to hang off his shoulders.

"Aw you missed us~" She cheers nuzzling into him. Matt shrugs her off, pouting slightly but she just laughs at him, lounging on her stomach on the bed next to her sickly wife.

"How have you been?" Madeline asks randomly, looking up from her computer to where Matt is sitting. He shifts awkwardly in his spot not used to being seen by the living. He and Maria have been trying to figure out why Madeline can sense him, but they haven't come to much of an answer yet.

"Doctors say my lungs are doing better, but I don't believe them," Madeline begins to rant and Matt watches her talk, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and eyes sparkling. He clenches his hand tight again.

"At least you come to see me," She laughs lightly and Matt turns his head down. She doesn't get a lot of visitors. It makes him just a little sad. His hand tenses once more. He jerks roughly when Maria grab his wrist. He sputters as she directs his hand to the one Madeline has resting on the bed. He freezes when they connect.

Madeline inhales sharply, looking down at her hand now with Matt's forced over it. His face is red he knows, trying to glare through his panic at Maria who is just smiling like the devil. All of the sudden Madeline is crying.

"Thank you," She whispers. Matt stares at her dumbstruck, not even noticing when Maria moves her hand away. Madeline lifts her head looking almost straight at him, a smile on her face.

"I'm writing about you," She says. It's Matt's turn to inhale sharply. The living one goes off about her story, every word pulling Matt in deeper and deeper.

"I wish I knew what you looked like," She whispers. Matt tries to squeeze her hand, and if she notices he's not sure, but she laughs brightly. The darkness comes creeping in, he can feel it needing him. He stands and backs away. Maria winks to him and Madeline waves in general to say goodbye, tapping on her computer. Matt falls away to the sight of both of them and a certain warmness inside.

* * *

Her lungs are screaming. Frantically she tries to hit the button to call the nurses. She didn't mean to start crying, honest. She hit a spot in her book that made memories resurface and tears came before she could calm herself. Her windpipe closes up, her fingers still pressing the button.

Doctors come barreling in, working over her and getting her to sit still. Her mind is going fuzzy. Someone places a masks over her mouth to get air to her and her head lolls to the side. She doesn't have enough energy to react to the sight that greets her.

It's Maria by the door, looking at her with worry, holding tightly to someone's arm. The one next to her is tall, in a black hoodie. Their hands are gripped tight around an axe and their eyes closed. Her vision goes foggy as a sharp blast of fresh air hits her hard. The last of her energy depletes, letting her rest at ease with life still surging through her.

* * *

"You liiiike herrrr~" Maria coos. Matt pushes her off him, trying to look grumpy but his cheeks are heating up only causing the spirit to laugh more. Matt sighs and tries to relax, sitting closer to Madeline now with her hand to the side placed over where his is even though they can't really touch. She's reading through her work, using her unoccupied hand to make changes.

"It doesn't matter what I like," He says just a hint bitterly. Maria scoffs and snuggles into his side as the only contact she can have.

"Sure it does. She likes you, I know. Should have read the description she made of you, all that flowery language shit," Maria cackles. Matt tenses. He looks down at the spirit who is smirking wickedly.

"She saw you apparently somehow and she described you in her book ridiculously. Honest." Maria moves from around him to sit by the living one. She taps at the screen, at the buttons with not a lot of luck, but Madeline winces everytime she does. Finally she sighs and scrolls through her work slowly. Maria scans the computer as Madeline somehow knows what she wants. She only stop when Maria taps violently in her computer.

Matt goes when he's waved over. He moves to the floor to not lean over Madeline as his eyes scan the screen, reading the description Madeline made of him for her book. He blushes instantly at the words, never thinking himself to be any of the things the writer says he is.

"It totally matters if you like her," Maria says with a smile. Matt looks up at her, then to Madeline who is smiling shyly down at her hands. Matt places his over hers, his chest tightening when she smiles more. Her flinches a little when Maria places her hand over his and closes it just a bit more over Madeline's. He blinks wide eyed at the spirit.

"She likes you. I would know. I am her wife," Maria says arrogantly and Matt turns his head down. This isn't the first time Mara has said something like this, bluntly giving her blessing to something that Matt refuses to believe might even happen. It's weird almost for Madeline's dead wife to be trying to set him up with her.

"Come on man," Maria teases him, smirking again. Matt glares up at her easily this time though she is unaffected. Eventually he sighs and goes back to sit on the bed. Madeline goes back to editing with one of her hands occupied. Maria cuddles back into his side smugly. He sits there with them both until the pull comes, taking him away from the softness he knows.

* * *

The book is more of a success than she could have ever dreamed. She sets up a signing later in the years, meeting many fans from out of a designated hospital room. She's been living in the hospital for years now, it's practically home. She lays in her bed at the end of the day, looking out the window and smiling when she feels a presence come to her. She holds out her hand casually and vaguely feels a warmth cover it.

"I think I might be done tonight," She says gently. Barely she feels the warmth move. She laughs and smiles at where she thinks the being is.

"It'll be okay. I'll finally be able to talk to you," She says. With another smile she lays her head back down. It's silent as she drifts off to sleep, the weight in her hand becoming heavier and more real as she finally falls.

When she opens her eyes again she's looking down at her own body on the bed, peaceful. She takes a deep breath, feeling her lungs work better in death than they ever did in life. She smiles at the floor when she's tackled in a hug.

"There's my pretty girl!" Maria coos in her face. Madeline giggles and hugs her tightly, missing her loud presence from years ago. She tilt sher head to the figure in the corner, face covered by a hood and an axe by their side. Maria giggles and pulls her over.

"This is Matt and he's awkward and he totally has a crush on you," Maria says happily. The reaper turns his head away and Madeline can just see the hints of a blush on his cheeks. She laughs and takes his hand, the warmth feeling familiar after the years of him visiting.

"It's so nice to be able to see you," She tells him The reaper shrugs nonchalantly, trying to be casual. Maria cackles and shudders.

"Oh man it is time for me to move on," She shudders again. Madeline steps back as the reaper moves his axe expertly through the air. She manages to give her wife one last kiss before Maria leaves, winking and waving as she goes through the tear. It seals up nicely and Madeline faces the reaper again, now with his hood raised and staring at her dumbstruck. She laughs.

"I finally get to talk to you," She says sweetly. Her soul has bonded to him she can tell. After all those years of him sitting by her she wants to be by him for a long whole more. He twitches and still his cheeks stay red. She wiggles into his space, snuggling into him. It takes a moment but he wraps an arm around her, holding her tight to him. After all this time of knowing he came for her, she's not going to just let him go away.

* * *

Matt whistles softly, feeling at ease when Madeline chirps back to him from perched on his shoulder in her chickadee form. Never had he thought she would attach to him enough to stick around. They barely knew each other and yet her soul decided him worthy enough to hang onto. He reaches up a hand and she nuzzles into his fingers happily. It's such a kindness he's happy to have.

"Yo!" Matt turns lazily to the voice, waving his hand half way when he spots Allen in the crowd. The reaper smirks as he walks over, Alfred by his side. Matt shifts to face them, fidgeting when Madeline transforms on his shoulder. He reaches up an arm naturally to brace her as she stays up there, smiling down at the others.

"Damn Matt I had no idea," Allen laughs. Matt glares at him but Madeline laughs, slipping down to say hello properly when she pauses, staring at Alfred wide eyed.

"I know you," she says. Alfred looks between them all confused as if they have the answers. Matt and Allen don't.

"Oh my maple!" Madeline exclaims and covers her mouth with her hands. Alfred puts his up in mock surrender, not knowing what else to do.

"Alex!" Madeline bounces in her spot and Alfred's jaw drops.

"I died when I was like 10 that time how do you-"

"Mom and dad kept your picture up, I'm your little sister," Madeline is giggling wildly now. Alfred screams in excitement and picks her up in a hug even though they technically just met, talking over each other to figure out what else they have in common. Matt sighs, the smallest of smiles coming to his face. Allen snickers.

"Dorks," He says. Matt nods his head in agreement, pretending he did no such thing when both Alfred and Madeline give them unimpressed glares. It takes a moment of them taking till Allen decides they need to go. Madeline comes back to him, snuggling into his side and taking his hand. Matt blinks down at her as she smiles up to him, barely smiling back. They wave to the others and continue on walking. Every so often Madeline with squeeze his hand and he will squeeze back, warmth spreading in his chest that such a sweetness that managed to come to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5y_KJAg8bHI) was used as inspiration. It's Avicii, not Evanescence.


	5. Bonus thoughts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My friend Katelyn asked me to explain more ideas in this AU, and some had questions on things so! hopefully this answers some things?? Thank you so much for reading!

The entire story was based off this comic where a reaper gave this woman extra time to live to not only give birth and save her child but be able to see the child for a few minutes before eventually passing on. Which is directly seen in the America chapter where Allen gives Amelia just enough time to do just that.

Another main part of the reaper au is basically reincarnation shown by the swirling purple mass that is on the other side of the tear in all the chapters. It’s a place for souls to get themselves prepared to live again and maybe even help subdue some of their past memories until they are ready to see them again. the reincarnation area is like space with stars(other souls) as is kind of a pure place, one for the living, which is why reapers can’t go there and why Vlad was harmed when he tried  to stop Russia soul from going through. They serve as a link between life and death.

Time it takes for a soul to be fully prepared to be reincarnated is about 50 years, that’s if they live a long enough life to warrant that amount of time. The Russia soul died prematurely quite a bit and so their reincarnation time was on the lower side, not needing to repress so much living memories as they didn’t have many.

The souls do not see their memories until they die again and like a flashback they get all those memories and can see where they came from and what they have done and all the new things they have learned and can subconsciously push those feelings into their new life.

Souls come from dead reapers actually. It was explicitly shown in the Canada chapter that the reaper that came to Matt(also the one who came to Allen) dissolved into chickadees for new life. Those souls will not remember the times as a reaper as they are now considered partially living and reapers are not. The new souls will live and grow as they are. The more lives a soul goes through the ‘older’ they are in terms of experience. 

Fun fact: the reaper that came to Matt and Allen is based off a Native America figure, and the one that came to Vlad in the Russian chapter is based off General Winter.

Now souls don’t lose all of themselves and can keep certain traits and things they have learned, key elements to themselves. One of those things they always have is the same eye color. Like that one phrase “the eyes are the windows to the soul”. Their eyes will always give them away. The America soul will always have sky blue eyes on a cloudless day and France soul will always have soft looking blue eyes. I think they were blue at least XD

Another thing that souls keep is a specific trait that makes the soul kind of ‘who they are’ in a loose sense because they are nothing but lost memories when they are reincarnated. The America soul has a call to help people, kind of like the hero complex most often seen in America’s in other fic. Canada soul has kindness and the France soul has lasting love.

Funny enough the Russia soul’s key feature is determination, which is odd because they’re the ones who ‘gave up’ and didn’t want to be reincarnated again just to die horribly again, but it’s exactly their resilience and will to go on that made them able to stay in the world of the living as long with no ties as they did without being corrupted.

A soul needs to have something keeping them there in order for their soul to be safe without corruption. That’s how Amelia lasted so long before her son died, and how Marianne stayed okay waiting for her stable boy.

It was mentioned before that a too long corrupted soul without anything having to tie it down becomes a poltergeist or a ghost.

But souls only remember their past lives when they die the next time, giving them the ability to ask for their respective reapers, as well as giving Madeline at the end of the Canada chapter the ability to recognize Alfred as who he was when he was Alex, her older brother had he lived long enough. She only recognized him by his eyes, and got a flash of who he was for a second.

Most souls take the shape of how the reaper sees them, each one dependent on which area they die. Allen sees souls as butterflies, Matt as chickadees and so on. They take those shapes and see other souls as the area they died in. Chickadee Madeline will see Butterfly Alfred and that’s it.

It’s possible for a soul to start seeing new forms for souls if they spend years upon years with a reaper and pick up on their soul seeing feels.

Reapers can skew odds as mentioned before, which was a really fun part of writing this. They can’t make someone live 10 years more simply based on will, but they can give just the right amount of power behind a hit, or make someones foot hit the ground the wrong way and make it more or less likely for someone to die. Rare cases such as the one where Allen saved the America soul in the Amelia reincarnation took a lot of energy because he was literally warping time and space and life itself to let her live as well as her son, who showed up in the Canada chapter as a friend of the Canada soul. Some reapers like Vlad and Oliver wanted to try and make as many people live as long as possible while some like Francois didn’t care too much about if it worked or didn’t or who lived.

Speaking of who, though they are not explicitly mentioned, some other countries did play appearances and others were mentioned. Zao, the Chinese reaper, who sees souls as snakes played a part in the Russia chapter, this reaper has the same kind of attitude that Francois does, not really caring who lives or dies and thinks it all happens for a reason and doesn’t interfere. Luciano as a reaper would actually skew odds against people, killing more than saving because he’s just a vindictive kind of reaper.

All the 2p’s are reapers, while the 1ps are of the living souls. They all see souls as different animals. Klaus the Prussian/German reaper saw dogs, and Oliver saw souls as dragonflies.

And he definitely didn’t have much seeing time but Lutz is actually an interesting character because the reapers actually grew up a little more as the area they were in charge of did as well. Allen got ‘older’ as more people came into the area he was in charge of. Lutz however, will always remain a child, as he is a reaper of animals. During one of the chapters he was mentioned to be running about touching the animals. That’s his job, and he will always be child like in attitude and appearance.

Appearance wise as mentioned, the reaper can grow with their population. It's why the Native America reaper was so damn intimidating. They can change their clothing and what not with the use of the scythe and the darkness. The darkness is almost like death itself without a physical form. It’s a guide in the most basic sense. It’s something that only reapers can sense and feel. that was until the living souls bonded with their respective reaper.

The scythes themselves are the literal link between the living limbo and the reincarnation area. It is the actual tool that can bend and twist space. The reapers are the only ones able to wield the power. Being existing but not alive allows them to do that.

Earlier I said that the Native America reaper died to become new souls. Reapers can stop existing. Their abilities are given to new reapers who will take over their land. They die when their land gets to populated and they can not handle the amount of people and almost stress put on them by the population. The reapers are ‘born’ from the darkness and know only the instinct the darkness gives them.


End file.
